


Fallin' For You

by crwoe



Series: Hauntober 2020 [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Almost Kiss, Angst and Feels, Awkward Peter Parker, Bad Flirting, Canon-Typical Violence, Deadpool being Deadpool, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hauntober 2020, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Fucked, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Secret Identity, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Soft Wade Wilson, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Tony Stark worries about Peter, Underage Drinking, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall, Wade Wilson Dies Temporarily, Wade Wilson Face Reveal, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crwoe/pseuds/crwoe
Summary: Spider-Man and Deadpool are just bros. No, seriously, just bros.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Hauntober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949299
Comments: 29
Kudos: 183





	1. Pumpkin

Peter Parker had seen some _stuff_ in his life. He’d seem some _shit_ especially within the last five years after being bitten by a radioactive spider - and, hadn’t _that_ been something? But he had never seen something quite like _this_.

He wasn’t exactly sure _what_ it was, but he did know that it was violently orange and it was _everywhere_.

“Uh, ‘Pool?” Peter called from the doorway, unwilling to step further into the apartment slash warehouse slash weapons depot slash possibly radioactively contaminated site.

On a good day, Deadpool’s humble abode looked as if it’d been ransacked by a gang of blind criminals. It wasn’t uncommon to find molded over food containers, discarded clothing, flipped over furniture, bullet holes in the walls, or even suspicious dark splatter marks on the walls and/or ceiling that Peter didn’t like to look at for too long. On a bad day, well, let’s just say the bad days had him dashing out of the building and violently retching into the bushes outside.

Peter had learned pretty quickly not to come by unannounced unless it was an emergency. Deadpool had known he was on his way over this evening. Whether he’d _forgotten_ that or not was still to be determined.

There was a dull _thump_ from somewhere deeper within the apartment, and then the sound of feet rapidly thundering closer. For a moment Peter tensed, but when his spidey-sense didn’t set off any alarm bells his body relaxed.

“Weeeeeeeeb-aaaah!” Deadpool rounded the corner with his arms thrown up in the air, no doubt ready to release some theatrical greeting, except his foot landed squarely in a pile of the violently orange _whatever_ it was and he was sent sliding with a high pitched scream.

Peter stood stunned for a moment, debating if it was worth the risk of possible radioactive contamination to stop ‘Pool from busting his ass - but he didn’t need to worry. This was “Dead Motha’Fuckin’ ‘Pool”. Mercenary. Deadly. Immortal question mark?

Windmilling his arms, he used his own momentum to keep himself upright and slid to a stop directly in front of the doorway. He struck a pose to celebrate sticking the landing. One hand on his hip, the other cocked up behind his head. Through the mask, Peter could tell he had a shit-eating grin on his face. Below the mask, his normally red and black suit was covered by thin strings of the orange goop that may or may not have been a biological weapon.

“Deadpool,” Peter deadpanned, shoving the takeout bag he’d been carrying into his stomach. He gestured towards the orange _stuff_ clinging to ‘Pool’s body and decorating part of his home. “Is that…” Radioactive? Toxic? _Deadly?_

“What is that?” he settled on. He leaned through the doorway, getting close but not _too_ close, and stared hard through the lens of his mask at a string or orange _whatever_ that was dangling off of one of Deadpool’s pecs like the world’s strangest nipple tassel.

“Ehh?” Deadpool replied, ever elegant. He looked down at himself, followed Peter’s line of sight, and then looked back up. “What’s what Webs?”

Peter turned his incredulous gaze towards Deadpool’s face. “What.”

He realized a few things at once. One, this conversation was going to go in circles and he wasn’t sure if it was because Deadpool really didn’t see anything wrong with the state of his home or if he was being an asshole. Two, Peter could _feel_ the beginnings of a headache coming on. And, three, he was _hungry_ and if that orange stuff was dangerous or poisonous or some other ‘ous he was probably already infected anyway.

“Nevermind,” he muttered, moving into the apartment. His shoulder brushed against Deadpool’s as he moved around the larger man, and he began to pick his way across the floor carefully avoiding directly stepping into a pile of goop. The Spider-Man suit was hard enough to keep clean as it was, and the last thing he needed was more stains to scrub.

He heard a dreamy sigh behind him. “Love to watch you go, ‘cause of your butt,” ‘Pool called after him. A laugh bubbled out of Peter’s throat, but thankfully the mask hid the blush he could feel on his cheeks. 

“Oh, hold on, wait, wait, wait!” Deadpool danced around Peter, moving in front of him to cut off his path. Peter looked up at the man, a pout hidden under his mask. “I’m _hungry_ ,” he complained. Usually, he was a fan of Deadpool’s chaotic energy, but right now when it was delaying him from his burritos it was getting annoying fast.

Deadpool’s body went rigid for a moment, his head tilted as if he were listening to something far away. Peter had an idea of what was happening in ‘Pool’s head, but that was something that had been declared a topic they _would not_ talk about pretty early on. Deadpool was very adamant about it, and he wasn’t adamant about much, so Peter respected his boundary.

“Shut up,” ‘Pool muttered, shaking his head as he bounced back and forth from his heels to his toes. “I’ve got a surprise, Web-Head!” he practically squealed. If his hands hadn’t been filled with takeout bags he probably would have been clapping.

“Okay,” Peter relented, knowing there was no way he’d get a chance to sink his teeth into his food until Deadpool showed him whatever it was he wanted to show him. He knew it wouldn’t be something that would hurt him - either physically or emotionally. ‘Pool was actually kind of good at giving surprises.

Also, it would maybe solve the mystery of the orange goop. Which, Peter was 95% sure _probably_ wasn’t deadly since it hadn’t set off his spidey-sense at all.

Deadpool stomped his feet like an overexcited toddler, dropping the takeout bags right onto the floor. Peter stared at the bag with longing as Deadpool grabbed his hand and pulled him towards whatever surprised awaited him.

‘Pool interlaced his fingers with Peter’s and he only blushed a little beneath the mask.

They rounded a corner and suddenly Peter couldn’t see anything because Deadpool had placed a gloved hand over the lens of his mask. Peter stiffened, caught off guard, and squeezed the hand in his hard enough to hear Deadpool’s bones grind.

“Ouch, _holy fuck_ , relax Spidey!” Deadpool yelped but still didn’t drop Peter’s hand. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen,” He said softly, his voice surprisingly sincere.

Peter relaxed slightly, loosening his iron grip, and allowed Deadpool to blindly maneuver him into position. Suddenly his sight was restored, and it took a moment for his overly sensitive eyes to adjust to what he was seeing.

The room was just as violently orange as the others, but it was also _glowing_.

Immediately he had thoughts of his long and painful death as a result of radiation poisoning. What were they going to write on his tombstone? Rest in Peace Peter Parker, who survived a radioactive spider bite only to die due to some _other_ radioactive bullshit.

Deadpool, who’d been bouncing on the heels of his feet, slumped when Peter didn’t react fast enough. “He hates it,” he muttered to himself, a deep frown evident on his face under the mask.

Peter blinked, and when he opened his eyes he felt like a fucking idiot.

It wasn’t radioactive orange goop from another planet.

It was _pumpkin guts_.

And in front of Peter were the pumpkins that had been de-gutted. And, to be honest, it looked like a few of them might have met a violent end. He could see some looked like they had been shot at and/or the victims of explosive attacks. Knowing Deadpool he’d obviously used a few of them for target practice. Inside his home. Well, it was better than him shooting more holes in the walls.

They were arranged in a line, carved, and glowing. Peter squinted, looked at the pumpkins again, and then took a double-take. A laugh bubbled out of him, light and bright, and he raised a hand to his masked mouth.

Most of the pumpkins had letters carved into them crudely. They were arranged to spell out ‘Spideypool’. Outside of that, there were a few pumpkins carved with hearts and a few more that had surprisingly detailed carvings of two cartoon-ized Spider-Man and Deadpool figures in various situations. In one they were both punching a figure with a mask on who was obviously meant to be a criminal. In another, the little Deadpool figure was webbed to a wall. And then, in another, the two of them were walking hand in hand with slices of pizza in their free hands. They were all glowing from inside with candles.

To be honest, it was _kind of really_ impressive.

“Fuck you, White! I told you he’d like it!” Deadpool crowed, punching a fist into the air and doing a little shuffle dance with his feet.

Peter snorted, getting his initial laughter under control. “Yeah, it’s pretty great ‘Pool,” he smiled. 

He turned his gaze away from the pumpkins and onto Deadpool, and he felt something like butterflies in his stomach. His cheeks flushed again, but it was still hidden by his mask. Peter took those feelings and pushed them deep, deep down - something he was finding himself having to do _a lot_ around the masked merc.

Peter could handle Deadpool’s incessant flirting. He’d made it blatantly obvious on many occasions that he had a massive crush on Spider-Man. Peter had tried to get him to tone it down at first, but to be honest it was kind of nice to get that type of attention. Or, you know, kind of _pathetic_ depending on the way that you looked at it. 

He’d acknowledged ‘Pool’s feelings, but acknowledging his own was a whole other minefield he wasn’t sure he was ready for. For fuck’s sake, they didn’t know each other’s names of what they even _looked_ like. So Peter did what he was good at and deflected.

“Burritos?” Peter said instead.

Deadpool was off immediately, steps light and airy because of his successful surprise. He led the way back to the forgotten takeout bag, babbling the entire way about how great his pumpkin carving skills were. He kept his fingers loosely laced with Peter’s the entire time.


	2. Leaves

“Time out, time out!” A pained wheeze escaped Peter as he ducked behind a parked car clutching one side of his ribs. He grimaced as he gently prodded at himself, his breath coming out in short, sharp grunts. The car he ducked behind rocked, and _leaves_ of all things flew past the car with such force that it slid a few inches and caused Peter to stumble back.

“I said time out! Rude!” he yelled, poking his masked head over the top of the car. He had to pull it back almost immediately as another concentrated flurry of leaves was aimed directly where his head had been.

“This is just straight-up bad manners! I’d let you get a time out!” Peter called out as he braced his back against the car that was still being battered - by _leaves_. He’d met a lot of mutants since becoming Spider-Man, and he’d have to say this girl definitely would be in his top five list of most _‘What The Fuck?’_ when it came to abilities. Like, really, controlling _leaves?_ Peter had thought this would have been a quick incapacitation and capture, but he was finding that leaves were much more dangerous than he’d ever thought.

A break in the onslaught. It seemed like she couldn’t move and maintain her control at the same time, and so that meant she was moving closer. Taking advantage of the lull in her attacks, he pressed down on the web-shooters at his wrist and aimed at a nearby streetlight. The webs connected with a soft _‘thwip!’_. Peter kicked himself off and away from the car, launching up into the air with his webs. His ribs screamed in protest, but he grit his teeth and pushed through the pain of some seriously broken bones.

_Leaves_ had broken his ribs. He was never going to live this down. He was never going to be able to look at leaves the same again. She’d _ruined_ fall for him - and that was totally not cool because everybody knew fall was the best season.

A flurry of leaves followed him as he swung from the streetlight to nearby buildings and then started to climb up higher. The way she was able to wield them was almost like she had some weird firehose that instead of spraying water sprayed _leaves_.

Again, this was _really fucking weird_.

She seemed to at least have some limitations, as Peter eventually reached a height that she was unable to reach. He stopped his frantic web-slinging and instead used a hand and foot to dangle in place on the side of an apartment building. His free hand went to his ribs, and he let out a shaky breath. 

He could feel that the swinging had moved the bones out of alignment, and the pain was beginning to reach a level that was nearly unbearable. Panting, Peter watched as the girl continued to aim for him, but her attacks were falling about six feet too short. He was only just barely out of her range, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to swing much more without causing irreparable damage. He had a healing factor, sure, but it would still take him about a day to heal from broken bones. If he didn’t get a chance to set his ribs soon they’d start healing in the wrong position, and he shuddered as he thought about having to break the bones _again_ to get them in the right alignment.

The girl below him let out a frustrated screech, putting more power behind her attack. The velocity of the leaves increased to something like a tsunami, but it still fell a few feet short of where Peter dangled.

Still breathing heavily, he reached into one of his many hidden pockets and fumbled out a cellphone. Using one hand he quickly typed up an ‘SOS’ for backup and sent it to a group chat that was labeled _‘HOLYFUCKINGSHIT THE AVENGERS’_. It did, indeed, contain the contact information for most of the Avengers. There were also a few other contacts in there, people that Spider-Man had worked with in the past and who he had a good relationship with.

To be honest, he was hoping for an Avenger.

Peter had refused Tony Stark’s offer of a communication device. Spider-Man’s identity was still a secret - or, at the very least Stark pretended that he didn’t know - and Peter didn’t like the idea of having a comm that would constantly send the Avengers information about his location and biometrics and whatever else Stark had shoved inside the tiny electronic devices.

And so, like a true millennial, if he needed help he just texted the group chat.

Peter’s body gave a full shudder as his spidey-sense screamed _‘DANGER’_ at him. He pulled his legs up just in time to avoid probably having his kneecaps shattered by the weight of tons of leaves. As he scrambled higher he heard the sounds of glass breaking and screams within an apartment as the force of the leaves busted various windows.

His spidey-sense calmed after he climbed a few stories, and his gaze frantically swept the street below him.

“You’ve got to be _kidding_ me! That’s cheating!” While Peter had been texting, the mutant leaf girl had climbed onto a _fucking moving truck_ which had given her the boost that she needed in order to nearly take off Peter’s legs with another furious assault.

Rather than respond she continued to bust almost all of the windows of the apartments that were within her reach. She couldn’t reach him, and now she was forcing him to move by endangering innocent people. Peter could hear more screams from inside as the people within their homes rushed away from the broken glass and leaves that were being wielded like knives.

Trying to center himself, Peter braced for what he knew was going to be a really, really dumb and fucking painful idea. He couldn’t allow her to keep attacking innocent people - he couldn’t just hide until someone arrived to help.

He attached a web to the building across the street, took a breath, and then swung. As the girl turned, directing her leaves towards his body that was now within her range, Peter used his other hand to stick a web to the moving truck and set his body on a course directly for her.

By the time she noticed it was too late.

Her eyes widened, which Peter would have laughed out loud about if not for the fact that he was in excruciating pain. She tried to bring up a wall of leaves, but she wasn’t fast enough to beat him. He extended his legs, his feet connected solidly with her chest and sent her falling over the side of the moving truck.

Peter would have stuck the landing if not for the fact that his _ribs were broken_. He couldn’t get his feet underneath himself, and instead rolled across the top of the moving truck and followed the mutant leaf girl over the side of it. 

He managed to twist his body so he took the brunt of the impact on his shoulder. This was both a good and bad idea. Good, because at least he hadn’t landed on his ribs and really fucked himself over. Bad, because the popping noise his shoulder made upon impact meant it was dislocated.

Air knocked out of him, Peter wheezed as he rolled over on his back and turned his head to see where the girl had landed. His kick had sent her flying with more force than he had wanted. She’d landed in a heap a few feet further down the sidewalk, and she was struggling to stand as she wobbled on her hands and knees.

Peter groaned and tried to pull himself up. He tried to hold his right arm against his chest and roll to his feet, but he only got as far as his knees before the pain in his ribs throbbed so badly that his vision blacked out for a second.

Shaking his head violently, his vision came back just in time for him to see the leaves that had been harmlessly laying around him start to shake and rise into the air. He whipped his head up and saw that the mutant was now standing a few feet away, and she had a murderous look on her face. 

“Time out?” Peter tried again, eyes frantically searching for a way to prevent himself from staring in one of those lists of _‘Top Dumbest Ways to Die’_.

As the leaves began to swirl a body dropped down from the top of the moving truck and landed squarely in front of Peter. A _proper_ landing, not the rolling and falling that he had done.

He also found himself, very suddenly, with a face full of black and red spandex covered ass.

Despite the very real and still present danger, the warning bells his spidey-sense had been ringing dulled just a bit and Peter’s body relaxed a fraction as he leaned forward against the legs in front of him.

“Oh, em gee! Spidey is totally touching our butt!” Deadpool squealed from up above.

With another screech, the mutant forced a torrent of leaves upon then.

All of a sudden it was really, really _hot_.

Peter tilted his head up, chin resting against the back of Deadpool’s thigh, only to see him laughing maniacally and brandishing a _flamethrower_. It was kind of the most genius and terrifying thing he’d ever seen - and, not to mention, a little _hot_.

Temperature-wise, of course.

Deadpool made short work of the leaves. They were burnt to nothing before they could make contact with their bodies. It may have been fall, but it was also New York City, and after just a few short minutes the mutant had run out of ammunition. ‘Pool cut the flamethrower and tossed it to the side. With no other options left the mutant made a run at him.

Deadpool easily dodged the attack, all without even moving his legs - which Peter was still plaster against. With deadly efficiency, he knocked his fist against her temple and sent the girl crumpling into a pile on the ground knocked out cold.

“Now, Webs, even though this is _exactly_ like this one fantasy that I have, are you good?” Deadpool asked, twisting at his waist and trying to look behind himself. 

Peter answered by giving a feeble thumbs up with the one arm that he could still control. Deadpool moved slightly, causing Peter to groan aloud and clutch his ribs again.

“Lying is so not part of the superhero code. That’s villain shit, Spidey,” Deadpool chastised him. Gently, and displaying some surprising flexibility, he gripped Peter’s shoulder with one hand and held him in place as he took a few steps and turned around. Hands much softer than Peter would have thought him capable of, Deadpool reached one arm under his knees and the other around his shoulder and scooped him up bridal style.

“This is totally another one of my fantasies,” He supplied, which Peter laughed at.

He immediately regretted laughing and slapped weakly at Deadpool’s shoulder. “Don’t make me laugh,” He grumbled.

“Yeah, okay, sorry. Where to?” ‘Pool asked, his hands still gentle as he tried to not jostle Peter around too much. Peter groaned, not out of pain but more of a preemptive groan. He knew exactly what Deadpool’s reaction would be to this, but he had no other ideas.

“Avengers Tower,” Peter sighed, turning his face into Deadpool’s chest to try to tune out the high pitch squeal he let out. He didn’t need to be told twice, and immediately he took off in the direction of the building.

Peter pressed his face into his chest, only half-listening as ‘Pool began to list the Avengers in order first of who he’d like to fight the most, then who had the best legs, and then who’s autograph he’d ask for first.


	3. Tea

Peter patted one hand across the tabletop while his other furiously tapped away at his laptop. He eventually made contact with his mug and brought it to his lips only to groan and slump when the last drop of his coffee slid out. The mug clinked loudly as he put it back down on the table with more force than was necessary, scrubbing his hand against his face.

He was nearing hour thirty-four of no sleep and his body was at this point running off of coffee and anxiety. Peter’s heightened senses typically kept him pretty wired, and when you added to that copious amounts of caffeine and no sleep things didn’t usually go well for him. He was at the point where the coffee wasn’t really working to keep him awake, his body tired, but it _was_ still keeping his mind buzzing.

Basically, he was overtired and anxiety ridden, but he couldn’t do anything about it. This paper was due tonight, but he needed to submit it within the next few hours so that he could patrol tonight. Then, finally, he might be able to catch three or four hours of sleep before his first class tomorrow.

This was the shit they never mentioned about being a superhero. It kind of really sucked sometimes.

He pushed away from the table he’d taken over in the corner of one of his favorite coffee shops. It was, of course, the only table in the place where he could sit with his back against the wall and have a full view of the entire cafe and the street outside the window. He might have just been Peter Parker right now, an exhausted college student, but he was still also Spider-Man and there were certain things his body was just hardwired to do. Making sure he had his back covered at all times was one of those things.

Peter pushed his hair back from where it was sticking out of the beanie he’d haphazardly pulled on to hide the fact that he hadn’t washed his hair in… _awhile_. He wasn’t an overly gross or dirty guy, it was just that there weren’t enough hours in the day for him to be able to do everything he needed to. Sometimes he needed to make sacrifices, and those sacrifices usually involved personal hygiene or cleaning his little apartment.

Shuffling up to the counter he ordered a chai latte. He needed something to drink to keep himself going, but he was slightly concerned he might give himself an anxiety attack if he kept chugging down coffee like it was water. Tea was better, probably, maybe.

He leaned against the counter, his eyes going unfocused behind his dark-framed glasses as he stared hard at a croissant behind the glass. Peter’s mind was reeling - not about the croissant, btw - but he just had a lot on his plate right now. He’d manage, he always did, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t hard as fuck. He’d thought high school and being Spider-Man had been bad. He’d gotten himself through those few years by telling himself that college would be better.

Boy, had he really misjudged _that_.

A mug of tea slid across the counter at him, breaking him out of his stupor. Peter grunted his thanks before slinking away. It was kind of rude, but this was the type of cafe that was dominated by college students. He wasn’t the only one who looked like he had one foot in the grave, and so he was pretty sure the barista wouldn’t take it personally.

He always left a good tip to try to cover for his rudeness, and because he felt guilty. Aunt May would kick his ass right across the entire cafe if she ever heard about him grunting at service workers. Great, now he could add ‘guilt’ to the list of emotions muddling his brain and turning it to mush.

Placing the mug of tea carefully onto the table he dropped himself into his chair, stared at his laptop screen for a moment, and then slumped forward and banged his head onto the table with another groan.

He was still three pages short, and his mind was basically at its breaking point. Peter wasn’t going to be able to finish this paper, and then his grade would slip, and he’d be put on academic probation, and then he’d get kicked out of school, and he wouldn’t be able to find a job, and Aunt May would be disappointed but she would never say that she was disappointed she’d just give him that _look_.

Peter groaned again, rolling his forehead against the tabletop and kind of just being a big fucking pathetic baby.

Someone snorted from across the table.

Peter whipped his head up so fast he jostled the entire table. A bit of tea sloshed out of his mug, spilling a little onto some of his papers that were spread across the table. He swore, grabbing a napkin and frantically blotting at his notes to try to save them before the ink bled too much.

A sharp intake of breath from across the table reminded his addled mind why he’d spilled his tea in the first place. He looked up, a bleary gaze focusing on the figure across from him, and his jaw promptly fell open.

“Holy fuck. You’re, like, _hot_ hot,” the man across from him stated, surprised.

Peter wasn’t sure who was more surprised. Him, or Deadpool.

Because that was who had sat across from him. Deadpool.

What. The. _Fuck._

The mercenary was clad in his spandex suit, of course, but over it he was wearing a black hoodie with the Spider-Man logo blazoned across the front. The hood was pulled up, but underneath it he was wearing his usual mask. It was kind of weird to see him in civilian clothes - even if it was just a hoodie - but it was even _more_ weird to see him without weapons.

Knowing Deadpool he definitely had weapons on his person, but he’d done a good enough job hiding them that Peter couldn’t pick out any.

They both kind of stared at each other, but as per usual ‘Pool was the first one to break the silence. “Not that I was coming over here to creepy, bee tee dubs,” He babbled, talking animatedly with his hands. “But, like, holy fuck, you’re hot. Not Spider-Man level hot, but a really, really close second!” He emphasized by holding a gloved hand up with his thumb and pointer finger held close together with just a sliver of space between the two digits.

“Really, I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t _died_ or something. Because of the head slam. And the, uh, grunting. Which, by the way, was also hot but would be a lot hotter if you were wrapped up in my bedsheets,” ‘Pool finished.

Peter blinked, automatically reaching up to adjust his mask before remembering that he _wasn’t wearing his suit_. He wasn’t Spider-Man right now, he was just plain ol’ Peter Parker. This was beyond weird.

“Uh, thanks? What, uh, what’re you doing here Deadpool?” He questioned. Hopefully, the merc was too distracted to notice that his voice was almost exactly the same as Spider-Man’s. His exhaustion was actually working in his favor for once because his voice sounded a little different than it usually did.

“Oh, so you know who I am,” Deadpool purred, putting his elbows on the table and propping his head up on his hands.

“Yeah, uh. Um, doesn’t everyone?” He tried weakly, mentally cursing himself and hoping that he wasn’t giving himself away. This was not how he had anticipated telling Deadpool his identity. Actually, he hadn’t _ever_ thought about telling Deadpool his identity at all. As much as he liked the merc Peter liked his privacy even more. Peter gestured vaguely in his direction. “The suit is kind of a dead give away.”

Deadpool looked down at himself, almost like he had forgotten what he looked like, before looking back up at Peter with a shrug.

“So, come here often cutie?” He asked, obviously flirting.

This was _beyond_ weird.

Spider-Man dealt with Deadpool’s flirting with sarcasm or redirection. Peter dealt with flirting by blushing and stuttering. He could feel his cheeks turning pink, and from the sound of delight that Deadpool made, he had noticed as well.

“Yeah. It’s, uh, good,” Peter started, cringing internally at his own awkwardness. He wasn’t good at flirting to begin with, and this whole bizarre clashing of his two worlds type of situation wasn’t helping. Not sleeping wasn’t helping. The caffeine buzzing through his veins wasn’t helping. The paper _still_ wasn’t finished and wasn't helping. “It’s good for, um, studying,” he finished lamely, gesturing at his laptop.

Deadpool sighed dreamily, and Peter could practically see the hearts dancing around his head. “Beauty and brains, nice,” he turned his head to the side a little before speaking softly and obviously to himself. “We are _not_ going to fuck this up, shut up.” He paused for a moment and then nodded his head rapidly. “I’m gonna go with Yellow on this one, don’t be a bitch White,” another pause, and then his head turned almost comically fast towards Peter. “Oh, fuck, White’s got a point. We can’t be _talking_ to ourselves like this,” he said in a furious whisper before shaking his head and focusing his attention fully on Peter.

Peter didn’t react. He was more than used to Deadpool voicing his inner monologue. Spider-Man had been interacting with Deadpool for about a year now, and so he was very familiar with some of ‘Pool’s more _strange_ personality quirks.

“What’s your name, sugarplum?” He cooed, and Peter’s lips twitched up at the ridiculous pet name.

“Peter,” he responded easily, before internally cringing when he realized he should have tried to lie or something. To be honest, he didn’t _want_ to lie. It was almost kind of a weird relief to “reveal” himself to Deadpool - even though he actually wasn’t really revealing anything.  
“Peter,” Deadpool said, trying the name out and nodding a little. “Well, Petey-pie, I’m Wade. Wade Wilson. Deadpool. Merc with the Mouth,” he counted on his fingers as he listed off his nicknames. “Regenerating Degenerate, Mr. February in the Mercs of the Month calendar, Biggus Dickus,” he waggled his eyebrows at the last one - Peter could see the movement under his mask.

“Isn’t that Monty Python?” Peter questions, a smile on his lips.

Deadpool spluttered for a moment. “Holy fuck, you are like a perfect wet dream,” escaped his lips before he slapped a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, I know, too far, fuck,” he hissed behind his hand, head tilted to the left.

Peter finally laughed, and Deadpool’s eyes widened. He cast his eyes downward and his laugh cut off as he saw his laptop and remembered that as he sat there _flirting_ he was slowly getting closer and closer to being kicked out of college. Okay, not really, but it _was_ a really important assignment.

“I, um. I have to finish this,” he said weakly, gesturing towards his laptop.

Deadpool immediately slumped in his chair, obviously taking this as Peter trying to brush him off. “Yeah, okay, I get it, Peter,” he sighed, slowly beginning to rise to his feet.

Peter’s heart lurched in his chest and he flung out a hand across the table. “Wait! Uh, before you go, do you… uh,” he stopped for a moment, but then decided fuck it and plowed on. “Do you want my number?” That was really fucking bold for Peter, but he couldn’t handle the way Deadpool had seemed to deflate before his eyes.

This was a terrible idea.

Deadpool immediately brightened, producing a cell phone seemingly out of nowhere.

This was a _really_ terrible idea.

Deadpool paused with his fingers on his phone. “You don’t _have_ to,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “I am kind of a massive fuck up, Petey. If you just want me to leave I’ll go. Promise I won’t bother you, or stalk you, or anything like that,” he huffed, then paused as if listening to something. “Yeah, you don’t have to give me a fake number or something. That’d, uh, that’d kind of be worse,” he finished lamely.

Peter’s stomach clenched painfully at the way Deadpool - Wade - got so down on himself so quickly. “No, I _want_ to,” Peter stressed before rattling off his number. Wade quickly typed it in, and Peter’s phone on the table vibrated.

Seeing the phone vibrate Wade punched a fist into the air in victory. “Holy shit we totally got his digits!”

Peter smiled again before his lips turned down and he gestured at his laptop. “I’m sorry, but, uh, I _really_ need to…” He trailed off, but Wade was already backing away from the table with his hands up.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I gotcha Petey! See ya, cutie!” Wade blew a theatrical kiss before turning on his heels and _skipping_ out of the cafe. Peter snorted, watching him go, and then turned back to his laptop.

He’d only just reread the last sentence he had typed when his phone vibrated again. He picked it up to see that there were two messages. It was from an unknown number that he assumed was Wade. This was Peter’s personal cell, not the one he used for his Spider-Man business, so he didn’t have Deadpool’s information. Also, Peter was pretty sure Deadpool had like six different phones and this number didn’t look like the same one he had saved in his Spider-Man cell.

The first message was a little Deadpool emoji. The second was a selfie that looked like it had been taken just a few feet outside the cafe. Deadpool’s checks were sucked in and he was making an exaggerated kissy face at the camera.

This was the _worst_ idea.

Peter sent back a kissy face emoji and then saved the number in his phone as ‘Wade’. He switched his phone to silent, anticipating the flurry of texts he was about to get in return, and turned his attention back to his laptop with a smile on his face.


	4. Candied Apples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End Notes for Minor Trigger Warning.

Mask rolled up at his nose, Peter knocked back a shot and grimaced as the liquid burned it’s way down his throat. When he tilted his face back down he found himself making direct eye contact with Tony Stark. He was staring at Peter from a few feet away from where he stood having a conversation with some politician type who _might_ have been the mayor of New York City. Without pausing in his conversation he arched an eyebrow, and Peter hastily rolled his mask back all the way down over his face.

A knowing little smile appeared on Stark’s face as he looked away, and Peter groaned internally. He _definitely_ knew who was under the Spider-Man suit, which meant he _definitely_ knew that Peter was still a few months short of twenty-one. But, mostly he was groaning because he knew they’d have to have a _conversation_ about all this, and that was the last thing Peter wanted to do. Stark also seemed to be taking some kind of sick pleasure out of prolonging the inevitable and he was _very good_ at giving Peter little knowing looks or dropping subtle hints about his identity that was kind of driving him insane.

Peter was convinced it was his passive-aggressive way of getting back at him for having turned down a Stark Industries Internship. Well, _Peter Parker_ had turned down an internship when it’d been offered to him through his university. He’d already been suspicious of Stark by then, and the randomly offered internship had confirmed it. As _sick_ as the internship would have been, Peter knew the added stress of the internship and his double life would have been too much.

The whole reason he was here tonight was to offer an olive branch after turning down the internship - even though he hadn’t even revealed that he was Peter Parker. Stark knew, he just _knew_ and rather than being an adult and taking the peace offering, he was still being a shit.

Peter kind of hated, but he also kind of looked up to him at the same time. Just another conflict of his life.

This was exactly the type of party that Peter avoided, both himself and as Spider-Man. It was marketed as a charity event, but really was just an excuse for a bunch of politicians and other rich ass people to rub their hands together and figure out ways to get even richer. Still, it did actually raise a lot of money for charity - mostly driven by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. The reason why it raised so much was that people were willing to pay almost double for a ticket to meet the _celebrity_ guests.

To be honest, Peter couldn’t even blame them. If he was rich he’d 100% shell out the big bucks for the chance to party with Captain America.

Except he wasn’t rich, and he wasn’t even Peter right now. He was Spider-Man, and he was just a piece of meat being dangled on a string to lure rich people into doing something good with their money for once in their lives.

Normally Peter loved to meet fans, but these guests weren’t fans. They just wanted a photo op, or a chance to try to convince him to help push their agenda, or they wanted him to sign something for their grandchildren. To be honest, he didn’t mind the signing, but the other two drove him up a wall.

Literally. He’d climbed up and across the ceiling to avoid speaking to some guy who had started off the conversation by asking him about his stance on homosexuality. It had either been that or knock him upside the head when he’d immediately jumped into his spiel about his own bigoted opinion.

Peter had been hanging around the refreshments area since after his great escape. He’d knocked back maybe a few more shots than he should have, but his tipsiness wouldn’t last long. Fast metabolism meant that he never stayed drunk for too long. Not that he drank often, to begin with, but if he wanted to make it through this evening without horribly offending someone he needed a little buzz.

There was a commotion from the doors, and Peter turned to look with everyone else.

He wasn’t sure why he was even surprised.

Over by the door was Deadpool, dressed in his usual suit and mask, but he’d also added a black top hat, black suit jacket with long tails, gold-rimmed monocle, and a cane.

It was kind of the best thing Peter had seen all evening and made him snort.

Security at the door was refusing to let him enter, frantically speaking into a comm while also trying to block the entrance. If Deadpool wanted to come in he would have come in, but he was at least trying to be polite and waiting, albeit impatiently.

The guests were starting to whisper nervously, and Peter could see a few Avengers heading in the direction of the doors. Shooting webs at the ceiling, he pulled himself up and reused his earlier escape trick to scramble above the guests’ heads and reach the doors before anyone else could.

He dropped down to his feet behind the security guard and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s cool. ‘Pool’s with me,” he informed him. The guard looked a little unsure but began to speak into his comm to double-check and make sure this was allowed.

Peter looked through the guests, his gaze landing on Captain America, Steve, who was closest. He had an alarmed look on his All-American face, but Peter flashed a thumbs up in his direction. Steven narrowed his eyes, not looking totally onboard, and Peter responded by flashing a _double_ thumbs up. Steve still looked worried, but he relented and gave Peter a nod as he was pulled away at his elbow by some elderly, bleach-blond woman.

When he turned back towards the doors the security guards were stepping away to let Deadpool in. He gave an exaggerated bow before rising up, flipping them off, and striding over to Peter. “Spidey! Can you believe that dickhead Stark didn’t put me on the guest list! I mean, after I brought you here that one time and they were like totally thanking me for saving your life, it was like we all really just had a moment, you know?” He seethed, and Peter laughed.

“Stark can be a dickhead, but don’t worry. _I’m_ glad you’re here. I can’t stand this stuff,” he huffed. Deadpool stood stunning for a moment, openly gaping at Peter, and he tried desperately the act like what he’d just said hadn’t been out of character. Peter would say that he was friends with Deadpool or as close friends two people could be when one was desperately hiding their actual identity. They patrolled together sometimes, they ate together often, they’d crash at one of Deadpool’s safehouses and meet up to play videogames on slow weekends.

But despite all that he’d never initiated those hangouts and had never explicitly said that he liked hanging out with him.

Things had started to get confusing after he’d started texting Deadpool as Peter.

Deadpool, or as Peter had taken to calling him outside of the Spider-Man suit, Wade, had found Peter sitting in a cafe half-dead from exhaustion and anxiety. He’d flirted with the unmasked Spider-Man, and Peter had given him his phone number for reasons he didn’t want to explore too closely.

Since then he'd been having two distinct relationships with Wade. One as Spider-Man, and one as Peter. Spider-Man called him Deadpool and they hung out as bros. Peter called him Wade and had really opened up to him through text messaging and had shared more about his life than he had with anyone in a while.

He may or may not have been having some _emotions_ that were really messing with his head and messing with the way he viewed Wade and messing with kind of everything.

Peter pushed his emotions away and down.

Not today Satan.

“We’re friends ‘Pool. Don’t act so surprised,” he joked, starting to walk back to the refreshment area and knowing that Deadpool would follow.

“Yeah, he’s totally drunk. Oh, em gee, a drunk Spidey!” Deadpool said to himself as he caught up with Peter. 

“Hey, no, I’m not _drunk_ ” he defended, slapping at Deadpool’s arm. “I just needed a drink to deal with these people,” Peter added, lowering his voice as they passed by people within the crowd. Another added benefit of having Deadpool around meant that everyone was too scared to come up and talk to him now. It was surprisingly easy to get through the crowd and to refreshments. 

No ceiling crawling needed.

Deadpool had already lost interest because his eyes had fallen on the extensive array of refreshments that were being offered this evening. He struck his cane down hard on the floor and used it to do a little dance where he kicked up his legs.

“Oh, I am going to fucking destroy those little shrimps! I’m going to annihilate those sandwiches. I’ll pummel those tiny brussel sprouts into paste!” With each food that he violently threatened he pointed and gestured at it in an over the top way. Peter found himself laughing and grinning as he followed Deadpool around and was regaled with the details of how aggressively he was going to eat.

Deadpool had started to violently gesture something that looked terrible that he was going to do to the desserts he had just spotted when someone slinked up to Peter’s side and rested a hand on his shoulder. Deadpool, having been enticed away by a display of fall desserts, was now in some kind of staring - or _glaring_ \- contest with the glossy surface of a candied apple.

Peter was on his own.

His body stiffed, and he took a small step away to create some space and make the hand fall from his shoulder. “Hello- oh, you again?” Peter had been all ready to play nice once he’d restored his personal space bubble, but this was the bigotted asshole from earlier who he’d already had to escape from once.

“Spider-Man! It really would mean a lot for my campaign to have the support of such an iconic superhero! The kids especially love you, and your endorsement could really help _improve_ their young lives,” He’d launched right into his spiel, and with each word Peter could hear his patience thinning. 

Maybe if he punched this guy in the face that would get Stark to stop playing his passive-aggressive games.

“We want to put a stop to this corruption and sin in our communities, and help heal young minds that have been twisted by the Devil down a dark and dangerous path. Isn’t that something Spider-Man would want?” The politician pushed, stepping back into Peter’s space and clasping a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Peter started, holding his shit together by a very narrow string. “What’s the dark and dangerous path?” He questioned.

For a moment the politician looked annoyed because Peter had obviously not been listening, but he wiped that expression off his face with practiced ease and slapped on his best schmoozing smile. “Homosexuality. There have been studies! It’s a gateway to more sinning.” He explained with such conviction that Peter could literally feel the last string of his patience snap.

At movement, his gaze slipped past the guy’s shoulder and Peter watched as Deadpool carefully rolled up his mask so that it was just barely above his top lip. He’d seen Deadpool eat before, and so he’d seen glimpses of his scarred skin that Deadpool was always so careful to conceal. The most that Peter had ever seen was one time when he’d rolled his mask up to the top of his nose, but even that had only happened a handful of times.

Peter slipped past the politician and stalked the few feet towards Deadpool. The politician followed, still trying to say something that he thought might convince Peter to suddenly accept the steaming pile of _shit_ that his platform was.

“Deadpool,” Peter said softly while at the same time making a small gesture towards Deadpool. They’d worked together for a while, and had developed some extra ways to communicate with each other. This one was the gesture used for ‘trust me’ - one that they both used right before doing something either incredibly crazy or incredibly bad.

Peter wasn’t sure where this was about to fall on the scale.

Reaching forward, Peter gripped the lapels of the ridiculous suit jacket that ‘Pool was wearing. He pressed himself as close as he dared, his body just a few small centimeters away from being completely plastered together. “That looks good,” using his grip on Deadpool’s jack he pulled himself up a little to put him at a closer height. Letting go with one hand, he used his now free hand to push the bottom of his mask up and over the tip of his nose.

He stood on his tiptoes and leaned up, took a bite from the candied apple that was pressed against Deadpool’s mouth. Chewing, he rocked back down on his heels and moved to stand on the side of ‘Pool. From this position, he had a great view of the expression on the politician’s face.

The guy turned around immediately, hiding his red face, and scuttled off at a speed that Peter wouldn’t have thought the guy would have been capable of.

“What a bigoted sack of shit,” Peter muttered once he’d swallowed his bite of apple. He glanced up at Deadpool to find the merc still standing perfectly still with the candied apple still pressed to his mouth.

Using his gloved hand, he wiped the back of it against his mouth. “Is there something on my face?” He asked, rolling his mask down after he’d wiped.

Deadpool… _exploded_.

“What the fuck! What the fuck Spidey! You’re GAY?!?” He’d tossed the candied apple to the floor in a frantic expression of movement. People had turned to look at his antics.

But, mostly, people had turned because he’d just loudly and publicly declared that Spider-Man was gay.

“I’m, uh, actually bi,” He corrected, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard. There was silence for a beat more, but then the volume of the party resumed and people began to turn away. A few were still starting, of course, but Peter couldn’t say that he cared much.

“Oh, fucking shit sticks, did we just out Spider-Man!?!?” Deadpool moaned, genuinely distraught at the idea. “Spidey, I’m so sorry, like fuck I am a fuck up,” he babbled, fingers scrambling at his utility belt. He produced a knife and flipped it, presenting it handle first. “You can totally stab me if you want,” He continued much to Peter’s growing horror.

“‘Pool, stop, please. I’d never! I’m not going-” Peter swatted at Deadpool’s hands, moving closer and speaking softer. “It’s okay. I’m not mad, I don’t care! Just, don’t. Don’t _say_ stuff like that,” Peter finished weakly.

The knife immediately disappeared.

“Sorry Spidey,” Deadpool said softly, his head tilting to the side as he prepared to no doubt have another fight with himself.

Peter poked him hard in the ribs, causing him to yelp and getting his attention. “I’m not in the closet or anything,” he says, trying to distract Deadpool away from his inner monologue. “You’d have to be pretty stupid to try to start a fight with Spider-Man over who he can date.”

Deadpool snorted, but his shoulders were still slumped.

“‘Pool, really, it’s _fine_. Besides, I’d rather people know. Now that bag of dicks can’t try to pretend like I’m on his side,” Peter shrugged.

“Yeah, that was kind of really brilliant Webs,” Deadpool started, “And, also, you know, the HOTTEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME,” He gushed. “Like, hoooly fuck Spidey has got game.”

“Shut up ‘Pool,” Peter squeaked out, blushing brightly under his mask. Deadpool didn’t seem to notice and spent the rest of the evening waxing poetically about their “fateful encounter” much to Peter’s absolute mortification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
> 
> Nothing too over the top. There is a moment where a politician tries to push his agenda and a moment where Deadpool offers to let Peter hurt him.


	5. Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinda cheaped out with this day's prompt, but I had an idea in my head and I wanted to go with it, xD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End Notes for Minor Trigger Warning.

Chilled air rushed past Peter as he swung amongst skyscrapers, but he hardly felt it. Stark had helped to design this suit - he’d been _personally offended_ by what Peter had been able to put together for the suit on his own. Which had, in turn, offended Peter. Back then he’d thought he’d done pretty damn well for a high schooler with severely limited resources.

In the end, Stark had won out. He also might have won because Peter was tired of the amount of time he spent trying to patch his suit. He also might have won because he offered to do it for free. The result was a top of the line suit built specifically for the needs of Spider-Man. Stark may have won, but Peter _kind of_ won too.

A feature of the suit was that the material, while breathable, was also insulated against temperatures. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it was enough to block out the evening chill of autumn. It certainly made his nightly patrols a lot more comfortable, because much like the postal service Peter was out here whether rain, sleet, or snow. Or, you know, alien invasions or sociopathic mutants, or whatever else New York City had to throw at him.

As he swung, Peter’s gaze fell upon a figure with legs dangling over the roof of the high rise they were seated on. He changed his direction, swinging closer but trying to remain relatively hidden. He’d come across a few potential jumpers before, and he’d learned pretty quickly that he was _not good_ at trying to talk people down. He was kind of a mess himself, and also not trained to deal with that type of stuff _at all_. Peter left that work to the professionals, and usually lurked a few floors down ready to spring into action if he needed to grab someone mid-air.

He swooped in and clung to the building a few floors short of where the legs were dangling. Looking up, he realized the feet were clad in familiar boots. There was also a knife strapped to one ankle, a gun on the other, and various buckles and pockets that Peter knew were hiding more weaponry.

He climbed the few floors up and pulled himself swiftly over the edge of the building.

Deadpool yelped, startled by his sudden arrival. He didn’t pull a gun, which was an improvement over his reaction the last time Peter had surprised him. Instead, he fumbled a cellphone that he had in his hands, and it went over the edge.

“Nooooo!” Deadpool squealed, and before Peter could even react the merc threw himself over the edge of the building. Peter’s stomach lurched, and a second later he was diving off the edge of the skyscraper and following Deadpool through the air.

Technically he knew that Deadpool would be fine. He healed, he always healed, but the idea of him being splattered across the sidewalk down below was an image that Peter didn’t want to think about. Just because he could heal didn’t mean he should be hurting - or, in this case _killing_ \- himself all the time.

They needed to have a conversation about this as it was really starting to upset Peter.

Freefalling, he shot out a web past Deadpool. He was frantically “swimming” in the air in an effort to speed himself up and get to his phone before it shattered with the ground. Peter’s web connected with the phone, and he jerked it up with a tug so that it collided with Deadpool’s chest. The merc cheered loudly, _still falling_ , and clutched the phone tightly to his chest.

Peter shot a second web, this one wrapping around Deadpool’s ankles, and then used his other hand to attach himself back to the building. He used their momentum to swing them back upwards, pulling Deadpool behind him like some kind of demented pinata.

In just a few short minutes Peter had them back up on the roof. Deadpool was laying on the roof, his legs still webbed together, and Peter stood over him with his hands on his hips. 

“Wowzers, Webs, way to be _dramatic_ ,” Deadpool pouted.

For a moment Peter was dumbfounded, and quite frankly _pissed_. Deadpool took the opportunity to hold up his phone, snap a _picture_ , and then turned the screen so that Peter could see. The moon was nearly full and stood out brightly in the sky directly behind Peter. He was silhouetted by moonlight and, okay, it _did_ look very dramatic.

“Very Batman of you. Kind of off-brand, ya know?” Deadpool chided him, and Peter could feel just a little bit of his anger deflated. He could never stay mad at the merc for too long unless he did something _really bad_ , but he was still a little upset about Deadpool’s disregard for his own wellbeing.

“Who is Batman?” Peter questioned, leaning down to help remove the webs from Deadpool’s legs.

Deadpool paused, head tilted to the side. “Oh, oops, wrong universe,” He shrugged before going back to typing at his phone. And, really, what was Peter supposed to say to _that?_ It only took a few seconds to free him, and even after the webs were removed ‘Pool seemed content to lay there with Peter still towering over him.

Still not showing an ounce of remorse for what he’d just done.

Peter groaned and kicked at Deadpool’s feet with some force. The merc yelped, and then proceeded to try to wiggle away like some kind of freakish snake - all the while still focused on the phone clutched in his hands.

“You can’t just jump off of buildings! What if I hadn’t caught you!” Peter scolded, stalking after Deadpool’s wiggling body and not letting him get away.

“Uh, I would have died, duh. No big deal Spidey,” ‘Pool brushed off, continuing to try to slither away and _still not paying attention_.

Peter groaned audibly with frustration. With a few quick steps, he caught up to Deadpool, straddled him with his legs, plopped himself squarely down on his chest, and then webbed Deadpool’s hand and phone to the ground so that he was forced to pay attention.

Beneath him, Deadpool gasped, but he went perfectly still. They both knew he could get Peter off of him if he wanted, even without the use of one arm, but he didn’t try. 

To be honest, Peter was kind of surprised that ‘Pool didn’t show much of a reaction. Now that Peter was thinking about it, Deadpool had been surprisingly distant with him since the charity even at Avengers’ Tower. He’d been very subtle about it, but now that Peter had forced himself on Deadpool - _literally_ \- his lack of reaction was out of character.

“Listen, I don’t care if you heal or not,” Peter started, poking his finger sharply into Deadpool’s chest. “I don’t like the idea of you dying, and I’m not going to just _let you_ do shit like this. Cut it out!” He continued to poke ‘Pool sharply for emphasis before standing up and moving to sit on the side of him rather than on top of him.

“I just really don’t like it,” he finished, having lost most of his initial steam and feeling a little bit awkward about the way Deadpool hadn’t even tried to make light of the situation or comment on the fact that Peter had been _straddling_ him.

Moonlight filtered down, reflecting off of Deadpool’s cell phone screen. Remembering the webbing, Peter reached over and unstick his hand from the roof.

Deadpool rotated his wrist a few times and then sat up. His knee brushed against Peter’s, and he finally turned his full and complete attention on him. He looked… surprised, which wasn’t the reaction that Peter had thought he would have.

“Uh, I’m sorry?” Deadpool started, it sounded more like a question than a statement. “Really, Spidey, I, uh, didn’t realize it bothered you,” He finished lamely. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Of course it does,” He supplied, knocking his knee against Deadpool’s. “We’re _friends_ ,” he stressed the word, making his point clear, “and I don’t like to see you hurt yourself.”

Deadpool had a baffled look on his face, expression evident under the mask, like Peter had just told him he could sprout wings and fly. “Yeah, I think we might be dreaming…” He muttered to himself.

“You _aren’t_ ,” Peter stopped that train of thought before he could even get it going. “You are awake, and I am upset, and I’m telling you why I’m upset,” he clarified.

Deadpool cleared his throat, awkwardly looking away from Peter.

“Okay, yeah, I hear ya Webs. I’m sorry,” He apologized, still not looking.

“Good, don’t do it again,” Peter finished, knocking his knee against Deadpool’s again before stretching out and laying down on the roof. “And, you know, you can totally say something about me straddling you. Like, good time for some comedic relief after the big serious,” he added, trying to pull away from the weird heart-to-heart they had just had.

However, Deadpool continued acting strangely.

“Ah, yeah, about that…” He started and then stopped. “We have to tell him, it’s _weird_ not to!” He whined to himself, before falling silent again and waiting for his own mind to reply. Peter crossed his arms behind his head, waiting out Deadpool’s internal conversation.

“Well, fuck you, I don’t care _I’m_ telling him and there isn’t shit you can do about it!” He finally burst out with, startling Peter.

“I’m kind of talking to this guy I met,” he started, avoiding looking at Peter as he openly gaped at him. “We met at a coffee place and have been talking and stuff,” he continued, and Peter felt his cheeks instantly turning bright red under his mask. _Oh shit,_ he was talking about him! Well, not _him_ him, but him as in Peter.

“And, like, you are totally still hot, and you’ve got ass for _days_ , but it doesn’t feel right to say that stuff to you anymore,” Deadpool concluded.

“Oh!” Peter squeaked, and then cleared his throat to try again. “Oh,” he said, somewhat in a more normal voice. Deadpool, of course, had caught the crack in his voice and turned to Peter with an almost giddy look on his face.

“You aren’t jealous, are you Spidey?” He goaded, all the while Peter was desperately trying to calm the pounding of his heart.

“What?!! No, of course not!” Peter spluttered, not convincing in the least bit.

“You totally are! Ha, sorry, but the Deadpool Train has left the station! You’re gonna have to wait in line, Webs!” Deadpool giggled gleefully.

“No, really, it’s whatever! I’m _happy_ for you,” Peter stressed, but in a weird way he kind of was jealous. Of _himself_. “What’s his name?” He questioned, desperately trying to swing this conversation in another direction.

Deadpool gave a dreamy sigh and was easily derailed by Peter’s question. “His name is Peter,” as he spoke he rolled over onto his stomach, kicking his legs up in the air like a teenage girl about to spill some serious gossip at a slumber party. It was _kind of adorable_.

“He’s, like, _fucking adorable_ , so cute it _hurts_ ,” Deadpool stressed, and Peter cheeks burned under his mask. “He’s got that hot hipster thing going for him,” Peter was a little offended by that, but he let it slip. “And his hair looks so soft! And his skin is flawless! And his body, _fuck_ , his body!” Deadpool moaned in a sinful way that had heat pooling in Peter’s stomach.

“Jesus, calm down, I get it!” He yelped.

Deadpool giggled again, but then quickly turned serious. “I was, uh, thinking about asking him out, but, you know sometimes people don’t-” before he could go any further Peter cut him off.

“You should totally ask him,” he blurted out.

“Uh, what?” Deadpool responded, surprised.

“Yeah,” Peter started, trying to downplay his immediate reaction. “I think it would be good for you, and if you like him, then why not?” He supplied, grateful that ‘Pool’s powers didn’t include enhanced hearing and he couldn’t hear how Peter’s heart was hammering in his chest.

“You think?” Deadpool said, surprisingly soft.

“Yeah, I do. And, you know, if he doesn’t work out then we can just go hang and do something,” He supplied, which helped to inflate Deadpool back up.

“Yes, fuck yes, I’m doing this!” He cheered, before immediately shaking his head. “No, _fuck you_ we’re doing this!” He argued with himself as he reached for his phone and started texting.

Thank God Peter only had his Spider-Man cell on him, because that would have been really fucking awkward to explain.

Peter’s heart rate had slowed, but it had been replaced by a giddy sense of anticipation. This whole situation complicated his life beyond comprehension, but he couldn’t help but be excited thinking about what texts he would go home to find from Wade. Going on a date with Wade as Peter was a _really fucking bad_ idea, but he already knew he was going to do it.

“Tell me more about Peter,” he asked instead, both to change the subject and also because he was curious to hear what the merc would say. Deadpool jumped at the opportunity, and for the next _hour and a half_ he gave a surprisingly detailed description of Peter, a very insightful look at his personality, and _sang a song_ about his attractiveness that had Peter literally crying from laughing so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
> 
> Wade is careless with his own safety.


	6. Haunted

Peter stood nervously, hands in his pockets, and rocked back and forth on his feet. From behind him the sound of screams could periodically be heard, and if this were a different situation he would have already been swinging in the direction of the noise. These weren’t the screams of someone in danger, not _really_. They were the screams of people echoing from the haunted mansion behind him. Well, the jury was still out on whether or not it was _actually_ haunted, but for the month of October it had been converted into a haunted attraction that promised to be the “scariest in NYC!”

It was also the location of Peter and Wade’s first date.

After Spider-Man’s moonlit rooftop conversation with Deadpool, Peter had gone home to find a series of texts from Wade. Most of them were random messages or pictures or whatever else he had decided to send Peter. The last, though, had been a text asking if he wanted to “get scared out of his pants in a non-sexual way”. Which, definitely the weirdest way that Peter had ever been asked out, but he didn’t care.

He had known it was coming. That didn’t stop him from clutching his phone to his chest like a teenage girl and swooning onto the top of his bed.

Fast forward a little, and it was time for Peter to “get scared out of his pants in a non-sexual way”. He checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, still waiting for Wade to appear. Peter had arrived a little early, but Wade was now officially late. It was only _one minute_ , but he was still late.

Peter pouted, putting his phone back into his pocket. He was kind of being ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t realized how excited for this he was until he was standing there waiting for their date to start.

“Why the pouty face, que tee pie?” A body slid up to the side of Peter. His spidey-sense wasn’t set off, so he had a good idea of who the person was. Turning, Peter caught sight of Wade and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

“Hi Wade,” he said, slightly breathless. His body moved on its own, moving onto his tippy toes. His arms wrapped around the merc, giving him a hug before he settled back down onto his heels. Wade stood completely motionless. He was wearing his usual suit and mask, minus any visible weaponry, but underneath the mask, Peter could tell that his eyes were wide and his mouth was open.

“Uh, was that okay?” Peter asked, biting at his lip. If he was being perfectly honest with himself he’d been wanting to do that for a while. Spider-Man couldn’t, but as Peter he finally had an opportunity and he went for it.

“Was that okay he asks…” Wade muttered, shaking his head a little. “Baby Boy, that was _more_ that okay. You can totally hug me whenever bee tee dubs!”

“‘Kay,” Peter said, smiling softly. “You can totally hug me whenever you want, too,” he added, embarrassed by the blush that he knew was coloring his cheeks.

Wade went silent for another beat and then spoke to himself. “We can’t hug him forever. What if we have to use the bathroom? Or go unalive some people? It’s not logistically possible,” he conversed with himself.

“Yeah, that’d be pretty inconvenient. Plus I’ve got, like, class and stuff. I have a feeling we’d have some scheduling conflicts,” Peter laughed. They fell quiet, energy buzzing between the two of them. For once Wade seemed like he might not know what to say. He was scraping his toe against the ground in a nervous way.

“So, scaring my pants off?” Peter supplied, gesturing towards the haunted mansion behind them.

Wade immediately burst into action. “Oh, you don’t have to ask me twice to take your pants off,” he purred, leaning close. Peter laughed, loud and bright, and Wade offered him his arm. “You can totally squeeze my arm as hard as you want if you get scared. My healing factor is pretty bananas,” He explained.

If Peter wanted to he could probably rip Wade’s arm clean off, but he wasn’t about to tell him _that_.

He took the arm that was offered, linking it with his. “My knight in shining armor,” he laughed, patting Wade’s arm. “I don’t scare that easy, though,” He added, but he still kept his arm wrapped with Wade’s.

“Me either, Baby Boy, me either,” Wade said as he began to lead them towards the entrance.

Fifteen minutes later and Wade was positively _howling_ in fright. It was all for show, Peter knew, and he’d been getting more and more dramatic with his expressions of fright the more that Peter laughed. The haunted house was fun, but it wasn’t anything _really_ scary. When you fought criminals, and mutants, and _aliens_ on a regular basis it took a lot to scare you.

A mirrored panel fell with a loud bang, revealing a person decked out in some kind of zombie Victorian woman getup. Wade positively _squealed_ , jumping like he was going to try to jump up into Peter’s arms. Without thinking, Peter caught his weight easily and held him up off the ground by his waist.

“Holy shit Petey. You’re, like, pretty strong. That, uh, that’s pretty fucking hot,” He babbled, kicking his feet where they were dangling a few inches above the ground.

Oh, _fuck_.

Peter pretended to stagger for a moment and then dropped Wade fully back onto the ground. “Aha, yeah,” he stammered, mind running through possible excuses. “I do gymnastics?” He supplied, it coming out more of a question than a statement.

“A gymnast, hoooooly _fuck_ ,” Wade hissed. Peter laughed, eyes taking on a teasing glint. “Yeah, I’m pretty flexible too,” he added, voice a little breathless.

Wade took a step closer, body fully pressed against Peter’s side. “Is that so…” he murmured. Heat pooled in Peter’s stomach as he looked up at Wade, pressing back in against him.

“Hey! As much as I like the show that is totally _not_ allowed. Keep it in your pants, boys!” a voice cut through, and Peter startled away from Wade. It was the Victorian zombie chastising them, but she had a smirk on her makeuped face.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Peter squeaked, grabbing Wade’s arm and pulling him along behind him. He was beyond mortified, and he could feel his face was bright red. He really wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. He was never really _like_ this. It had to do with Wade, of course. Wade had gotten into him.

Well, not yet, but hopefully soon.

Peter sputtered at that thought, his own mind betraying him.

The rest of the haunted house passed in a blur of faked screams and laughs. The two of them maintained a more _appropriate_ distance between them, but Peter did hold on to Wade’s arm the whole time. As far as first dates went it was pretty fucking perfect.

As they exited the house they were chased by a chainsaw-wielding ghoul. Wade “heroically” threw himself in front of Peter and urged him to keep running, while Peter played along and tugged at his arm and yelled that he wouldn’t leave him behind. They both ended up back on the sidewalk where the evening had started, but a little out of breath from laughter.

“That was great Wade, thanks,” Peter said once he’d caught his breath. He grinned up at the merc. “We should do this again,” he added.

“I’ll take you out for as long as you let me,” Wade responded, which did things to Peter’s heartstrings.

“Well, I guess you’ll be stuck with me for a while then,” Peter said matter-of-factly, smiling. Opening his arms, he leaned forward and gave Wade a tight hug. “Really, though, thanks. It was fun. I didn’t realize how much I needed something like this,” he confessed, head pressed against Wade’s shoulder.

Being Spider-Man wasn’t easy. Peter loved it, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything, but his life was messy and complicated and difficult and he didn’t often get a break. Being Peter also came with its own struggles, trying to balance work and school and taking care of himself on his own. It was all just _a lot_.

Wade’s arms circled around Peter’s waist, squeezing him back. “Anytime Petey,” Wade replied. “This was, uh, a good day for me too. I don’t, uh. I don’t have a lot of those,” he confessed, and Peter said nothing but he did hug him harder.

Spider-Man already liked Deadpool. They’d been friends for a while, and Deadpool had slowly grown on him. He’d already had a crush as Spider-Man if he was being one hundred percent honest, but with his identity being a secret it was impossible for him to act on that. As Peter, though, he’d learned more about Wade and had seen a side of him that he’d never seen as Spider-Man. He was a lot more open as Wade, especially about his struggles. Deadpool was trigger happy and dramatic and comical all the time. Wade was all those things too, but he was also surprisingly vulnerable under everything.

Peter was kind of _fucked_.

He pulled away from Deadpool and gave a little wave. “I’ll text you when I get home,” he offered as a goodbye. Wade nodded. “Yeah, you better,” he threatened, and Peter laughed.

With one more wave, he turned and started to walk down the street. He could hear that Wade hadn’t moved, and eventually, he was out of earshot. Well, Wade _would_ have been out of Peter’s hearing range if Peter _didn’t_ have enhanced hearing.

“So we are totally following him home, right? Not in like a creepy way but in a it’s late and if anyone tries to fuck with my Petey I’ve going to skewer them like a kabob type of way, right?” Wade was saying to himself. There was the sound of metal sliding, a sound that Peter knew well, and he almost turned around but he stopped himself and kept walking. How the _fuck_ had Wade hidden his goddamn _katanas_ without Peter being able to see them?


	7. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End Notes for Minor Trigger Warning.

“It’d be fascinating under any other circumstance, huh?” All Peter could do was nod wordlessly as he stared up at the sky. Never before had he ever seen so many stars in one place. It was what he imagined the sky probably looked like out in the midwest in the middle of nowhere. Specks of white scattered everywhere, different shades of blues and purples illuminating what must have been galaxies, the light so bright from the stars alone that you could see pretty well even without a moon in the sky.

Too bad Peter was in NYC, and a starry night like this was impossible.

 _Fucking aliens_.

Peter turned away from the sky, looking at Bruce who was standing nearby. This was the type of situation that the big guns usually dealt with, but even the Avengers were calling in backup on this one. Peter felt a little uncomfortable with the shiny new Stark Industries comm in his ear, but he really didn’t have much of a choice. This wasn’t the type of thing that he could just swing in and assist with. This was well above his usual pay grade, and so he had to play by the rules of the high rollers.

He also was being _babysat_ by Bruce. Which, to be honest, wasn’t all that bad. Peter liked Bruce, he really did, but he knew that the only reason they were paired together was because Stark didn’t trust Peter on his own. Mostly because he _definitely_ knew Spider-Man’s identity and so knew that he was only just barely an adult. He also should have known then that Peter had been dealing with this shit since he was fifteen. He was more than capable of taking care of himself, and he really _hated_ that he’d only been brought in under the condition that he stayed with his…. _handler_.

This was exactly why he kept his identity a secret. People would probably get a little weird if they realized that Spider-Man wasn’t even old enough to legally drink yet.

“We’ve got movement in the southeast, standby,” Captain _fucking_ America said into his ear. Peter had worked with the Avengers on occasion before, but there was something about Steve that he would always kind of fangirl over. Speaking of fangirling, there was a loud squeal over the comm that had Peter slapping a hand over his ear, and he could see Bruce wincing and turning a little green at the sound.

“What was that? _Who_ is that? This is a secure line! Jarvis, figure it out!” Barked Tony’s voice, but it was unneeded. The answer came faster than Jarvis could calculate. 

“Don’t get your iron undies in a bunch, Tin Can!” Peter grinned, and he couldn’t be positive but he was pretty sure he even heard Bruce huff a soft laugh at that.

“Deadpool?!? What are you doing!” Stark yelled. The reply he got was a barrage of gunfire that had Peter wincing.

“Unaliving aliens, you know, typically Friday night, amirite?” Deadpool responded with a breathless laugh tacked onto the end for good measure.

“Deadpool, stand _down_! Do you hear-” Tony’s comm cut off abruptly and Steve’s voice took over. 

“We need the help, Tony,” He reasoned, and Stark swore colorfully and loudly.

“Oh my, do you kiss your AI with that mouth?!” Deadpool squealed back, the sound of more gunfire echoing in the background.

“The only way he’s staying is if we get a _leash_ on him,” Stark demanded.

“Okay, I got ‘Pool!” Peter jumped in. The comms immediately explode into a barrage of noise. He could hear some agreement, some very strong disagreement, but mostly he just heard Deadpool’s excited shriek. “Spidey! They let you play with the big kids today too!?!”

Laughing, Peter gave Bruce a salute before webbing himself to the nearest building and swinging away. Bruce, to his credit, didn’t even bother to attempt to stop him. He just shook his head, sighed, and the last thing Peter saw before buildings obscured his vision was him hulking out and running in the same direction.

It only took a few minutes of web-slinging for him to reach the epicenter of the action. Most of the Avengers had already arrived and they were operating like a well-oiled machine. No surprise there. They were all engaged with alien enemies that looked like Chitauri, and to be honest, Peter wasn't all that surprised to see those guys again.

As he swung into the fray he used his momentum to kick into the chest of an alien that had been coming up behind Captain America. Steve gave him a salute as he passed, and if he saw Peter almost slam into the side of a building because he _swooned_ then he was nice enough to pretend that he hadn’t seen.

Rounding the corner of a block, Peter found Deadpool. Usually following the sound of gunfire and maniacal laughter was a sure way to find the masked merc.

He was a blur of red and black limbs as he alternated between hacking with his katanas and firing a seemingly endless supply of bullets and guns. There was a circle of Chitauri corpses around him, but even with that, there were plenty more throwing themselves at him.

Grinning under his mask, Peter launched himself into the fray. He landed behind Deadpool, back to back, and used his web-shooters to grab two Chitauri and fling them into each other. “Hey, ‘Pool,” He greeted, ducking as Deadpool aimed over his head and shot at another alien.

“Spidey, long time no see. You weren’t trying to avoid me, were you?” Deadpool pouted, shooting another Chitauri directly between the eyes as he used his other arm to neatly decapitate another alien that had gotten within katana range.

Peter slid under Deadpool’s arm, webbing two more Chitauri against a car. Deadpool changed his aim, cleanly shooting the two that Peter had just webbed. “Nah, just busy, you know. Besides, every time I come by to hang out you're with your _boyfriend_ ,” Peter teased, grinning under his mask. He didn’t know why he did shit like this, because at the end of the day he was only making his life more complicated and messy. Yeah, Deadpool had been out with his boyfriend. His boyfriend _Peter_ , who was also secretly Spider-Man, who was also currently jumping up and vaulting off of Deadpool’s back so that he could smash his knee into an alien that had tried to come up behind them.

His life was _weird_.

Eventually, that would bite him in the ass, but today was _not_ that day.

Their banter had to be put on pause for a few minutes as a flood of Chitauri rounded the block and ran upon them. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Peter couldn’t deny that he was having _fun_. He didn’t have to hold back so much with the aliens, and Deadpool and he fought _really fucking well_ together. 

With much webbing, and hacking, and shooting, and one well-timed grenade they finished off the last Chitauri in their immediate area. When it was over Peter and Deadpool stood panting heavily, but underneath the mask, he was grinning like an idiot.

“Woohoooo! Team Red, fuck yeah!” Deadpool laughed, holding up a hand for a high five.

Laughing, Peter reached up to high five him, only for his spidey-sense to be set off more strongly than he’d ever felt in his life. This was _red fucking alert_ , immediate serious bodily harm incoming. As their hands made contact he could see Deadpool’s eyes widen beneath his mask, and before Peter could even react he was behind violently pulled forward and spun around. Deadpool shoved him to the ground, and then Peter’s vision was overwhelmed by a bright flash. He frantically blinked away the lights, but when his vision came back it was already too late.

In front of him, Deadpool wobbled on his feet, a pool of red quickly forming below him. His gaze traveled up Deadpool's body, and he was immediately drawn to the large hole in Deadpool’s chest that he could _see through_.

“Wade,” He breathed, horrified. Surprise registered across Deadpool’s masked face. “Hey, you know my name,” he coughed out, and then immediately collapsed to his knees and crashed into the ground on the side of Peter.

“Wade!” Peter's voice pitched high with panic. His spidey-sense flashed again, and Peter looked away from Wade’s body to see the Chitauri that had shot him standing a few feet away. He had a gun looking thing in his hands, and the barrel was beginning to glow. Peter shot a web and yanked the barrel of the gun up so that when it went off it blasted the alien directly in his own face. The Chitauri fell to the ground with a wet thump, but Peter hardly registered it as he threw himself towards Wade’s body.

His hands hovered over the hole in his chest, not knowing what to do. His breath started to hitch as panic flooded his mind entirely. “Wade, Wade, Wade, Wade!” He muttered over and over again, his hands helplessly patting against Wade’s shoulders. His fingers trailed up to his neck, trying to feel for a pulse but knowing that there wouldn’t be one.

Peter’s chest constricted, his body verging into full-blown panic attack mode when he heard the sound of jets landing in front of him. He looked up, pulling his gaze away from Wade’s body, to see Tony had landed and was stalking over to him. His faceplate slid up, revealing a worried looking face. His gaze slid up and down Peter quickly, sizing him up.

“You alright, kid?” Tony asked, coming to stand next to him.

Peter started at him blankly and then gestured helplessly towards Wade’s body. “I’m fine. Wade, he’s. Wade’s not. He’s, uh. Wade’s not breathing,” Peter choked out, voice getting stuck by the sobs that were trying to work their way out of his throat. He could feel tears prickling the corners of his eyes, but none had fallen yet.

“Listen to me, Peter, _are you okay_?” Tony said, more firmly this time, his hands coming down on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter faintly registered that this meant that Tony totally knew his identity, but he couldn’t find it in him to care about that in the slightest at the moment. “I’m fine. Wade, he, he _saved_ me,” Peter stressed, his hands uselessly resting against Wade’s neck where there was still no sign of a pulse.

Tony let out a relieved sigh, pulling his hands away from Peter’s shoulders and wiping at his face. “Jesus Christ, kid, you had me worried there for a minute,” He sighed, rubbing his temples. Peter gapped up at him. “But Wade is dead!” He cried, voice cracking, and finally, he could feel tears slipping out of his eyes.

For a moment Tony looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Uh, so? It’s _Deadpool_ Peter. He’s going to be fine,” He looked like he was gearing up to say more, but then he realized just how distraught Peter was and seemed to stop himself. He got this calculating look on his face, his gaze going from Peter to Deadpool and then back again before his shoulders slumped and he looked up at the still starry sky.

“I can’t deal with this. There is not enough alcohol in the world to make me capable of dealing with _this_ ” he said to the sky, but he still knelt down next to Peter and grabbed his shoulders tightly. “Breath, Peter, with me. In, out,” Tony instructed, and Peter found himself struggling to gulp down breaths of air. Tony stayed like that for a few more seconds, gently coaching Peter to breathe through what he was pretty sure was a panic attack. He’d gotten them before, but he hadn’t had one since becoming Spider-Man. The icy feeling in his chest slowly started to abate, and he was able to get his breathing under control.

His hands didn’t leave Deadpool’s neck.

“Good, that’s good Peter. Now, the rest of the boy band is coming so you have to pull yourself together a little unless you’re ready to let the whole cat out of the bag,” He instructed, his gaze looking at something in the distance behind Peter. Peter sucked in one more shuddering breath, and then straightened his shoulders. “Thanks, Tony,” he said softly, looking back down at where Wade lay motionless.

“We’re good Cap,” Tony said, straightening up and stepping away from Peter. “Deadpool's down, but he’ll be back up,” Tony explained. Shakily, Peter got to his feet. It took some effort for him to pull his hands away from Wade, and even more effort to turn to face Tony and Steve.

Steve had his “serious business” face on, and Tony had this suspiciously blank expression on his face but his eyes looked like he was still trying to calculate something as he stared at Peter. “Is there, um. Is there anything we can do? He literally _died_ for me. I don’t, we can’t-. We can’t just _leave_ him,” Peter stressed, turning his gaze towards Steve.

Steve gave Peter a once over, and then looked over to Wade’s body. He grimaced at the sight, but then clenched his jaw. “It’s usually best to, uh, leave him to it,” Steve explained, but it looked like even he was having a hard time accepting that. “He doesn’t typically react well when he wakes up in a hospital setting,” Steve added, cutting off Peter as he had opened his mouth to protest.

“I’m not just going to _leave_ him here,” Peter protested, gritting his teeth. Steve gazed at Peter for a moment and then turned to look at Tony. 

“Options, Stark?” He asked, gesturing towards Deadpool.

Tony threw up his hands. “Last time we brought him back to the Tower _he blew his way out through multiple walls_ when he regenerated. It took _weeks_ to fix the walls!” He complained, but with the combination of Peter and Steve looking at him, there wasn’t any way he’d be able to say no. Peter had gotten over his initial shock and calmed down. He knew Wade would be coming back, but that only did a little to make this situation more tolerable.

“What if we bring him back to his warehouse?” Peter suggested, and Tony gave him an incredulous look.

“Oh, so you’re on a first-name basis and you know where he lives? We are _definitely_ having a conversation about this, _Spider-Man_ ” Tony stressed. Despite his words, he began to speak into his comms. “Jarvis, we need evac.”

Peter couldn’t find it in him to care about what Tony had said. Instead, he turned his head to stare down at Wade, hoping that the hole in his chest was actually smaller and that it wasn’t just his imagination. A hand clapped down on his shoulder, Captain America. “He’ll be alright,” Steve assured him. Peter nodded wordlessly, still staring at Wade.

\- - - - - - 

Exhaustion had caught up with Peter once he’d arrived at Wade’s home. Wade had been placed in his “bedroom”, aka an air mattress on the floor, and Peter had moved into the living room and promptly passed out on the couch. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep for, but at the sound of a floorboard creaking he was instantly awake and bolting upright with his web-shooter aimed at the noise.

“Holy shit balls Spidey, you are jumpy. Ha, jumpy. Like a jumping spider,” Peter’s arm fell limply to his side and he stared at Deadpool in front of him. “Uh, Webs? The intense gaze is kinda freaking me out. You aren’t going to eat my head, are you? Wait, what? Are you sure that is praying mantises and not spiders?” He argued with himself.

Peter slowly rose from the couch, his gaze on the hole in Wade’s chest. Or, rather, his gaze on where the hole would have been. There was still a large hole burnt into his suit, but instead of being able to see straight through him Peter saw the skin of Wade’s chest. He was completely healed, with the exception of deep scars that crisscrossed his skin. “Is that… are you okay?” Peter asked, pointing at Wade’s chest.

Wade looked down at himself, jumped when he realized what Peter was able to see, and immediately slapped both of his hands over the hole in his suit. “Oh, ahahahahah, oh _fuck_ ,” he panicked, laughing and swearing at the same time. “Sorry, Spidey, you don’t need to see that shit. It ain’t pretty, huh?” He joked weakly, starting to walk backward to try to get away.

“I don’t care,” Peter cut in, and Wade froze in place. “I just…. Just _tell me that you are alright Wade!_ ” he demanded, his voice breaking at the end.

“Webs,” Wade breathed, “you know my name.”

“Wade, _are you okay?_ ” Peter stressed again, moving a few steps closer.

“I’m okay Spidey,” He said, finally, “this is the normal look. It won’t get any better than this,” he explained, wiggling his fingers but still not moving his hands from his chest.

Peter slumped, relief flooding his body. “Thank fucking God!” he sighed. He took in a few lungfuls of air to get himself under control, and then looked up and over at Wade. “And, thank _you_ ,” he added. “You saved my life."

“Ha, no big deal Webs. Just a regular Friday night, you know?” He laughed awkwardly, beginning to walk backward again. Peter let him keep walking this time, knowing that Wade was uncomfortable. 

“It’s a big deal to me,” He said, collapsing back down onto the couch. “So, thanks,” He said, again. “And, uh, it doesn’t bother me, Wade. It’s just scars,” Peter said softly. He could hear Wade's sharp intake of breath as he stopped trying to escape back into his bedroom. 

“You snooped and found out my name, huh Webs?” Wade teased, but he didn’t sound upset. He also took another step, this time _towards_ Peter. 

“I did not!” Peter yelped, internally jumping for joy but externally not showing anything. This was kind of a big step for them. Both as Spider-Man and Deadpool and as Peter and Wade. He’d never seen this much of Wade’s skin, and here was Wade deciding that he wasn’t going to try to hide for once. “You have a business card that _literally has your name on it_ ,” he stressed. “It wasn’t like it was a secret,” Peter laughed.

“Shut up! He said it’s _fine!_ ,” Wade hissed to himself as he drew closer.

“I ordered pizza,” Peter supplied, politely choosing to ignore Wade’s internal struggle and changing the subject. “Wanna play Mario Kart?” He asked, grabbing a controller and flinging it at Wade. He caught it, hands finally moving away from the hole in his suit. Peter pulled his legs up, and Wade sat on the couch. Once he sat Peter let his legs drop, feet kicking against Wade’s thigh. 

“I call Peach!” Wade declared. 

You can have Peach if you get the door when the pizza comes,” Peter countered.

“Yeah, fucking right! Loser gets pizza!” Wade argued, and Peter found himself laughing and agreeing.

When the pizza arrived thirty minutes later the delivery boy was incredibly surprised to see a disgruntled Spider-Man answer the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence
> 
> Wade gets seriously hurt in a fight, but he gets better!


	8. Nightmare

Objectively, Peter knew he was being absolutely _insane_. What he was doing was absurd, the thing he was worried about was illogical, but the caveman side of his brain had fully taken over and he’d thrown reasoning out the window. That was sort of a normal consequence of not sleeping.

For three nights now Peter had been suffering from terrible nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep he’d see a blue fash, and then the vision of Wade with a hole in his chest would blast into his mind. If the dream ended there it wouldn’t have been _that_ bad. It was the after, where his mind twisted the events of that day, that the nightmare truly began.

Wade would collapse, as he had that day, but then he wouldn’t get back up. A white sheet would be placed over his unmoving body, and Peter would standby helplessly and watch. What felt like hours would pass with him standing there, staring, as the world continued to revolve around him. Time would pass, the background going by in an out of focus blur, but _still_ Wade would not get up. The only movement would be the white sheet fluttering in a breeze.

He’d stand there, paralyzed, his mind running a mile a minute but not actually thinking about anything. Instead, his thoughts were a tangled, black mass. They constricted around each other like tentacles, a rogue thought, or spike of emotion hitting him as the tentacles tangled together. It was worse than any panic attack he’d ever had. Rather than intrusive thoughts, it was a ball of everything negative inside of him, ping-ponging around within his mind like a runaway train.

This was usually when he’d awake, gasping for breath and bolting upright in bed. It was pretty hard to fall asleep after that, especially when Peter looked at the clock and realized that barely an hour had passed since he’d fallen asleep. Each time he closed his eyes the same scenario played, and each time he was forced violently awake he’d realize that barely any time at all had passed.

After three days of that, he wasn’t exactly capable of rational thinking. So when on the fourth night he awoke in a cold sweat, choking lungfuls of air down, rather than looking at the time he whipped the blankets off the bed and had thrown himself out of bed after them. He moved like a tornado, leaving a path of destruction through his apartment, as he haphazardly threw on any clothes he could reach before jamming his Spider-Man mask over his head. Barely thinking at all, he swung across the city and ended up at Wade’s warehouse.

And so, here he was, clinging to the roof of Wade’s home clad in ripped jeans, a stained white tee shirt, and his Spider-Man mask.

This was, _objectively_ , a really fucking bad decision.

Heart pounding in his chest and blood roaring in his ears, Peter slipped over the edge of the roof and crawled down to the large windows that lined the warehouse. The first one he tried pushed open easily. Of course Wade didn’t keep them locked - you’d have to be kind of a dumbass to try to break in on Deadpool. Peter was _kind of a dumbass_. Slowly and carefully he eased his body through the window, easily dropping down the two stories and landing in a barefooted crouch. He’d forgotten to grab shoes.

He stayed there, silent and unmoving, for a few minutes until slowly rising to his feet. Peter had learned the consequences of showing up unannounced to Wade’s home already. The first time, only his spidey-sense had saved him from being shot in the arm. The second time, he’d found Wade after a _bad day_. That had been much worse than the almost shooting, but he hadn’t known Wade as well back then so while it had been _deeply_ disturbing it hadn’t caused the same nightmares that he was having now.

All he wanted to do was peek in, make sure that Wade was actually okay, and then leave. He just really, _really_ , needed to make sure that Wade was okay. Just a peek, that was all he wanted. Then he could go, and hopefully, he could sleep. God, he was so _tired_.

Silently he padded through the warehouse. He was familiar with the layout of Wade’s house, both from his hangout sessions as Spider-Man and the handful of times he’d come by as Peter. Things were usually much, _much_ cleaner when he came by as Peter.

He crept his way through the darkness, perfectly silent. As he approached the area where Wade slept he paused. Pressing his hands against the wall, he crawled up to the ceiling and continued the rest of the way traveling that way. He knew the floor creaked near here, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake Wade.

Rounding a corner, he stopped again outside of the door that housed Wade’s “bedroom”. He slowed his breathing and focused, and was rewarded by being able to hear the faint sounds of breathing behind the door. Slowly, so _fucking_ slowly, he reached forward and pushed the door gently. It moved silently, thankfully, and Peter only risked pushing it just enough for him to be able to poke his head in.

Pause. Another breath.

Peter poked his head down through the doorway, getting an upside-down view of the room. His gaze immediately focused on the bed/air mattress in the center of the room. A black blanket covered a large lump in the center of the bed, but dangling off the edge nearest to Peter was a leg clad in pink pajamas with little, yellow ducks all over them. Peter couldn’t see much, but what he could see was the steady rise and fall of a chest underneath the covers.

He sighed.

His body reacted before his brain could catch up, which was a good thing because if things hadn’t happened like that he might have died.

Alarms were ringing in his mind, every hair on his body standing on end, his spidey-sense going absolutely haywire. He yanked his head up with such force that he banged his chin against the ceiling. He pressed himself as flat as possible just as a bullet whizzed past directly where his head had been only milliseconds before.

“Ow, fuck!” He hissed, more concerned about his throbbing chin than about the second bullet that fired passed - this time coming within an inch of his hand.

The gunfire stopped, the bed squeaking.

“Uh, am I hallucinating, or did that sound like Spidey?” Wade muttered, talking more to himself than Peter.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Peter confessed, taking a breath and then dropping to the floor. He twisted in midair, landed on his feet, and stood looking at Wade from the doorway. 

In the time it took for all that to happen, Wade had already made it just a few steps away from the doorway. He was standing directly in front of Peter, gun raised and aimed right at his forehead. At the sight of Peter he immediately brought the gun down, the sound of the safety clicked, and he tossed the gun over his shoulder and onto the bed.

“Spidey! You can’t sneak up on us like that!” He breached the distance between them with a few quick steps, hand coming up to pat at Peter’s shoulders, then pat his chest, and then froze. They both realized, at seemingly the same moment, that Wade wasn’t wearing his mask. “Oh, fuck, he’s, like, totally gonna be scarred for life,” Wade said softly.

Peter knew he should probably say something, either to reassure Wade that everything was alright or to apologize for breaking and entering, but he couldn’t help but just silently stare at Wade.

Spider-Man had never seen more than Deadpools chin and jaw, and Peter hadn’t even gotten a chance yet to see any of Wade’s skin. Despite that, he’d had a general idea of what Wade looked like underneath the suit and that was confirmed staring at his unmasked face. He was scared, obviously, skin raised in some areas, reddened in others. But he also had the most expressive eyes that Peter had ever seen, the bone structure of a _fucking_ Greek statue, and even though he couldn’t see it now he just _knew_ that he’d have a thousand-watt smile.

“Oh, mega-fuck-sticks, he’s broken! The Iron Posse is going to kick our fucking ass,” Wade fretted, unfreezing and gently patting at Peter’s chest again.

Peter absently pushed Wade’s hands away, and the merc startled like a frightened deer.

“Wade,” He said softly, hands reaching out. He realized, belatedly, that he was also more revealed than he’d ever been around Wade as Spider-Man. The only part of his suit he was wearing was his mask, and his tee-shirt and jeans revealed much more than his full body suit ever did. His fingers stretched out, reaching for Wade’s face, but the merc twitched like a frightened rabbit and Peter slowly dropped his hands.

“I’m sorry I broke in” Peter babbled, mind shocked into starting at the expression on Wade’s face. He looked utterly devastated, like a kid who got caught doing something bad and was waiting for their punishment. “I’ve been… I’ve been having these nightmares, you know?” He raised his hands to his head, rubbing at his temples. “And, uh, it’s that day, you know? With the aliens? And it’s the same, but it’s different. And you, you…. You don’t come back, Wade,” he says in a rush, voice hushed. “And I just had to make sure,” he finishes, weakly.

A myriad of emotions cross Wade’s face, and Peter is so fascinated to finally be able to _see_.

“Spidey,” After a few moments Wade’s face settled on something that was open and honest and so fucking _kind_ that is is kind of melting Peter’s brain. “I’m _always_ okay. You don’t need to lose sleep over that,” he assures him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter breathed, still stuck looking into Wade’s eyes.

Wade stared back, more emotions shifting across his face, and Peter cataloged every one of them. “I’m, uh, surprised you've survived this long looking at this ugly mug. I think you might hold the World Record now.”

“You aren’t ugly, Wade,” Peter said, voice firmer than it had been all night. “I _like_ looking at you,” He added.

Wade’s head twitched, eyes flickering up and to the left. “Webs doesn’t lie,” He whispered to himself, and then grimaced at whatever was said back to him. “Well, _fuck_ you guys too!” He hissed, and Peter could tell that he was gearing up for a major battle with himself.

Without thinking too much, Peter stepped forward and brought up his hands. His fingers gently brushed across Wade’s cheeks, and immediately the merc’s mouth snapped shut and he remained frozen in place. “Don’t listen to them, I mean it,” he stressed, his fingers sliding down Wade’s chin and then moving to his own neck. His fingers nervously slide against the seam of his mask, and _holy fuck he’d really lost it tonight._

Before Peter could do anything Wade’s hands shot out, his fingers firmly but gently gripping Peter’s wrists. Wade’s hands were just as scared as the rest of them, and when pressed against Peter’s slender and pale wrists there was a stark difference. “Webs, no, you don’t gotta do that,” He admonished. “Your secret identity is like, super important to you. And, I mean, I’m fucking _flattered_ , but this isn’t something you can take back.” He gave Peter’s wrists a squeeze and then dropped his hands.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d fucking _kill_ to see that little cute buggy face of yours, but not until you're ready. Like, really fucking ready. Consent, Spidey, it’s important,” at Wade’s words Peter's hands fell to his sides, and he sighed.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, again, but I’m really glad I get to see you now. I mean, I hope you can feel more comfortable now showing yourself. I really, really don’t mind, Wade,” Peter explained. This was a really fucking huge step in their relationship, but it was an even bigger step for Deadpool and his own self-worth. You only had to hang out with him for a short time to realize that he had some serious self-hatred - understandably so given all the bullshit he’d been through - but hopefully, this could help him to feel a little more confident in himself.

“Right, well!” Wade clapped his hands, effectively changing the subject. “Uh, that’s enough big feels for now. If we keep going like this I’m gonna have to blow up something to reclaim my manhood,” he frowned, and Peter huffed at him.

“That’s toxic masculinity for you,” he teased, and Wade barked out a laugh. It sounded a little awkward, but it seemed like things had at least returned to a semi-normal state. “But, yeah, I _really_ should go to bed,” He said, even to his own ears he sounded unsure.

Wade, ever observant, easily picked up on the tone of Peter’s voice. “You, uh, you can sleep here if you want Spidey. I know a little something about nightmares,” a dark cloud passed his face, but it vanished almost as fast as it came, “and I can keep an eye on you and wake you up if something happens,” he offered.

“I dunno, ‘Pool, I feel like I’ve bothered you enough. I’ll, uh, I’ll just have to deal,” he shrugged, but Wade was already reaching for Peter’s arm and tugging him forward. 

“Nuh-uh, sleep. You’re a growing spider and you need to get plenty of rest,” he admonished, and Peter laughed. He allowed himself to be manhandled over to the bed. Wade gently pushed him down, and then grabbed the blanket and proceeded to wrap Peter up like a burrito. He laughed the whole time and was breathless by the time Wade had finished.

“Nighty nighty Spidey. Don’t eat the bed bugs!” Peter laughed again, unable to move besides just flopping down onto his side.

“‘Night Wade,” Peter muttered, his exhaustion hitting him now that he was laying down. His eyes started to close underneath his mask, the last thing he saw was Wade sitting down onto the floor by the side of the bed. Peter drifted off within minutes, and it was the first time he managed to sleep through the night in days.


	9. Black Cat

Peter bolted upright on the couch as the doorbell rang. In a mass of limbs, he vaulted over the back of the couch and raced towards the door. He skidded to a stop just outside of it and paused for a moment to take a deep breath. Peter lifted a hand, quickly ran his fingers through his hair, took one more deep breath, and then opened the door.

On the other side of the door stood Wade. For the first time ever he was dressed almost entirely in civilian clothing. He had on a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, a well worn red Spider-Man hoodie, and underneath the pulled up hood he had his Deadpool mask on. Peter grinned wide at the side of it, happy Wade finally felt confident enough to reveal himself more. He had hoped after Wade had accidentally revealed his face to Spider-Man, that it would mean he might be more comfortable and confident enough to show himself to Peter.

It had worked. Still no face for Peter yet, but _baby steps!_.

Peter threw his hands over Wade’s shoulder, hugging him tightly. “Oh, hellooooo Baby Boy,” Wade purred, hands coming around to encircle Peter’s waist. Still hugging, Peter stepped backward into his apartment and pulled Wade in with him. The merc hooked his foot around the door and somehow managed to get it to shut. Skills.

Between Peter and Wade’s body, something moved, and Peter froze. A soft _mrrrow_ sounded.

“Uh, Wade, is that a cat in your hoodie or are you just happy to see me?” He deadpanned.

“I’m definitely happy to see you,” Wade countered, but he stuck his butt out and pulled a little away from Peter. “But I also might have a cat in my hoodie, full disclosure.”

Bewildered, Peter unwrapped his arms from around Wade and gingerly reached into his hoodie pocket. His fingers connected with a furry ball, and he gripped it gently and slowly pulled it out of Wade’s hoodie. It _was_ a cat. Well, a kitten more like. Completely black, with blinking bright yellow eyes.

“Wade?” he questioned, but he automatically pulled his arms close to his chest and cradled the tiny kitten closer.

“Okay, hottie with a kitten alert. That’s the cutest fucking thing, I might throw up,” Wade fumbled in his back pocket, pulled out his phone, and quickly began to snap pictures. 

“Wade!” Peter said again, a little louder but there was still a soft smile on his face.

“Okay! I found him! On the street! Alone!” he moaned, throwing his hands in the air.

“And so you brought him here? My landlord won’t let me keep a cat,” Peter said, still cradling the kitten to his chest. “And I don’t think you’d be able to keep a pet with your, uh, _schedule_ ,” he added. Peter, and Spider-Man, both knew that Deadpool was a merc. Ever since he’s started to work with Spider-Man he’d been careful about only taking hits for people that deserved it. Which, Peter _did not_ agree with, but he appreciated that Wade was at least making an effort to please Peter/Spider-Man.

Urgh, things were still confusing with the secret identity three-way Spider-Man, Peter, and Wade were all having.

“I know, Petey. I figured I’d drop him off at a shelter in the morning,” Wade explained, stepping closer and gently bopping the kitty on the nose. Peter noticed, belatedly, that Wade wasn’t wearing his gloves and his scarred hands were exposed.

_Baby steps._

Peter looked up at Wade, his heart kind of melting at the sight in front of him. “Okay, yeah, that sounds good Wade.” Gently, Peter pressed the kitty into Wade’s hands. The merc scooped that black fuzzball into his own arm, holding the little thing like a football against his chest. It was _adorable_.

Pulling his phone out, Peter quickly snapped a pic and Wade’s head shot up at the sound of the click. “I wasn’t ready! I’ve got to _pose_!” He whined. Peter, laughing, indulged him and for the next few minutes and acted as photography for Wade and the kitten’s photoshoot. To be honest, Wade _was_ good at posing, and he was planning on saving every single last photo.

Eventually, they made their way over to the couch. Wade sat with the cat nestled up on a ball on his lap, and Peter sat right next to him with their shoulders pressing together. Both of them held controllers and were furiously pressing buttons.

“Eat shit, Petey!” Wade furiously whispered as Luigi blue shelled Princess Peach and took the lead at the last possible second. Peter laughed softly, turning his head to smother his laughter into his shoulder.

“Shhhh!” Peter scolded, gesturing towards the sleeping kitten in Wade’s lap.

Wade’s eyes went comically wide beneath his mask as he froze, head slowly tilting down to look at the kitten. Peter laughed again, louder this time, and the kitten lifted its head. Now Peter was frozen as well, lips tightly pressed together to cut off his laughter.

The kitten gave him what quite possibly may have been the dirtiest look he’d ever received from an animal. Now Wade was wheezing, laughing, trying not to let his giggles escape. His body shook with the force of it. The kitten made a disgruntled noise, and then stood up and lept off of Wade’s lap. It landed on Peter's, walked across him, and continued until he hit the very edge of the couch. There he paused, gave them both one more slow blinking look that clearly expressed that he was _not amused_ , and then promptly plopped down to finish sleeping.

Peter and Wade eyed each other, and then both dissolved into fits of laughter.

“Sh, sh, sh! You’re making the cat _hate_ me!” Peter squealed, slapping at Wade’s shoulders. Wade giggled, slapping back at Peter and grappling with him until he was grabbing his wrists. 

“It’s your fault! Stop being all wiggly and wormy! Cats don’t like worms!” Wade whispered back. Peter pulled back, half-heartedly trying to break free, and then he threw himself into Wade. Wade, surprised, let go of his wrists, and then all of a sudden he had a lapful of Peter and things went very, very quiet.

Peter’s hands, on Wade’s shoulder, slowly drifted across and up to his chest. His fingers paused at his neck, gently pressing in at the bottom of his mask. “Can I?” He asked, voice breathless.

Wade, his entire focus completely on Peter, gave a gentle nod. “Just the nose,” he added, soft.

Peter nodded, fingers slipping under the mask, and slowly began to roll Wade’s mask up to the bridge of his nose. He stopped where Wade said, hands gently falling back down to Wade’s shoulder. Suddenly feeling unsure, Peter paused, staring down at Wade’s lips.

“I get it if, if you think, it's like really gross-” Peter licked his lips and Wade cut off abruptly. “Oh my fuck, Baby Boy, you are stupidly hot,” he breathed.

“Wade, is it okay if I…” Peter trailed over, head tilting incrementally closer.

“Is it okay he asks…” Wade muttered. Before either of them could say anything else he tilted his head down, lips just barely not touching Peter’s. Letting him have the final decision.

Without thinking Peter surged up, his lips colliding with Wade’s. The word _’finally’_ repeated over and over again in the back of his mind as he sat there, lips moving against Wade’s.

It only lasted for a few seconds, and then Wade pulled back. Peter couldn't help but pout, and Wade must have seen because he laughed. “Oh em gee, you are totally so needy,” he teased, but there is a tone to his voice that suggests that he _likes_ that.

Leaning back more, Wade reached up to his face. His fingers danced across the edge of his mask, and before Peter can process what that meant he pulled his mask completely off in one big tug.

Peter blinked, staring at Wade’s face for the second time in as many days. “Hi, Wade,” he breathed, grinning.

In answer Wade landed forward, lips finding Peter’s again. His hands went around his waist, pulling him closer and higher up onto Wade’s lap, and Peter was putty in his hands as he can’t find the will to focus on anything other than the feel of Wade’s lips against his. They spend most of the rest of their “date” kissing each other senseless on the couch.


	10. Bat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a day late, but OH WELL. tbh i'm pretty surprised i've managed to get this far without skipping one of the days prompts, xD.

Criminals really were _stupid_. For a couple of dudes who were supposed to be part of an elite organized crime family Peter honestly expected a little bit more. It was like one of those movies where the evil villain gives a big long soliloquy about all of their nefarious plans while the hero is busy nodding along and slowly freeing themselves. _Predictable_.

This situation followed that same basic plot, except Peter wasn’t trapped and was instead hidden on a fire escape waiting for these two bozos to finish publicly blabbering about their various crimes between cigarettes. He was just seeing how much information these idiots would divulge before he needed to intervene and intercept them for the cops. To be honest, they’d already said enough incriminating things that Peter had plenty of evidence against them, and so he was only _half_ listening.

“Yeah, I heard he’s bringing in that Merc. You know, Deadpool guy?” Peter’s head turned so fast he was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. His entire being was suddenly very, _very_ focused on the conversation unraveling below him.

“ _Fuck_ , that guy,” the other one stressed, stomping out his cigarette butt. Well, at least they were _considerate_ criminals. “The boss is as crazy as he is if he thinks _that’s_ gonna work out.”

“Guess we’ll find out, huh? They should be meeting right now at the docks,” Goon Number One supplied, looking at the watch on his wrist.

“Good _fucking_ luck to ‘em,” Goon Number Two concluded, starting to walk towards the end of the alleyway.

Before he could take another step he collapsed to the ground, legs webbed together. Peter swung down from the fire escape, webbing the other guy who hadn’t yet moved to the wall that he was leaning against. He, of course, started yelling and screaming but Peter shut him up with a web to the mouth.

The other guy was wiggling on the ground, trying to turn over onto his back and reaching for his pants where he probably had a weapon. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t seem to be the most coordinated and he was having trouble. Before he could get any further Peter webbed his entire torso, stopping his movement. He immediately started spouting off curses and threats and _whatever_. It was the same stuff Peter heard _every time_.

Ignoring him, he reached into the guy’s waistband and removed a rather large and sinister-looking gun. “Not cool, dude,” Peter chastised, gingerly placing the weapon on top of a nearby dumpster. “So, tell me more about this dock,” turning towards the goon, Peter stood over him with his arms across his chest.

“Fuck you, Spider-Man, I ain’t telling you _shit_ ,” He guys spat. Peter sighed, shaking his head.

“Okay, what about now?” He offered, hands moving and his web shooter now angled directly at the man’s crotch. His eyes went wide and he started to splutter, straining against the webs holding his body down.

“You’re bluffing!” he accused, even as he tried desperately to wiggle away.

“Maybe, maybe not. Do you really wanna find out?” This wasn’t Peter’s typical way of operating, but he was more than a little concerned for Wade given what he’d already heard. Threats weren’t really his thing, but he was _kind_ of bluffing. He’d never kill anyone, and always aimed to incapacitate, but might have at some points used some unnecessary roughness. That was usually only directed towards the absolute lowest of the low. This guy didn’t fall into that category, but _he_ didn’t know that.

“Alright! Christ! The docks, over in Red Hook-” A web splattered against the man’s mouth with enough force to jolt his head. 

“‘Kay, thanks. Be good and wait for the police,” Peter turned and walked away as he spoke, fingers already typing away at his phone and alerting one of his police contacts of the location of the crooks. Usually, he liked to say and make sure the police arrived and apprehended the criminals without incident, but he kind of had bigger concerns at the moment. Plus the only thing the cops really needed him for was to remove the webbing, but it would naturally begin the decay over time. In, oh, say, three hours? If the police were really in a rush to free those guys they probably had tools that could cut through his webbing, but he was pretty sure the cops would be more than happy to let these guys stay webbed up for a while.

\- - - - - - 

Peter made it to the docks at record speed. His next order of business was to narrow down locations and try to find a place where Wade might have agreed to have a rendezvous with some criminal types. He knew Wade pretty well, so he could probably put together a solid educated guess.

Or, at least, he had _thought_ he knew Wade well.

Peter was still struggling to process just _what_ Wade was doing out here. They’d had multiple talks about his mercenary work - both with him as Spider-Man and with him as Peter - and he’d made it very clear he was not a fan of the unaliving business. Wade had told Spider-Man, pretty early on in their _partnership_ , that’d he’d turned over a new leaf and was only taking contracts for people who deserved it. All evidence had pointed to that being true, as Peter had even heard the Avengers commenting on it.

Meeting in an abandoned warehouse on the docks with a well known and infamous criminal organization did not seem like it fit with Wade’s current MO. On top of all that, Wade usually told him if he was taking a contract. At the very least he would have told Peter since a contract often meant he was out of town for a few days and would have limited contact. It was a little concerning that he hadn’t mentioned any of this to Peter or Spider-Man.

Peter trusted him, he _really_ did, but he just wanted to make sure everything was good. If Wade was planning on flipping on these guys, which was Peter’s best guess as to what was going to happen, he should have brought some backup. Yeah, he couldn’t die and blah blah blah… but he could still get hurt and it was dumb of him to do something like this alone.

Or, more likely, Peter had become one of those overly protective boyfriends and was sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

Huh, boyfriends. He hadn’t said it out loud, but they kind of were, weren’t they?

Swinging low through the docks, he picked one of the more abandoned-looking ones at random and landed silently on the roof. Repeating the move he’d used at Wade’s house a short time ago, he climbed over the side of the roof and down to the first row of windows. These ones weren’t even _closed_.

He maneuvered himself inside, careful to make as little noise as possible. He stuck himself to the inside of the window and paused for a moment, head tilting as he strained to hear anything. Faint, as if coming from deeper within the warehouse, he could hear what sounded like mumbled words. 

Fuck yeah, got it on the first try!

Confident he was out of earshot of anyone currently in the warehouse - as long as they weren’t mutants - he dropped down to the floor. Immediately he regretted his decision.

The sound of him landing, and the dust that was kicked up from the ground, set in motion a _swarm_ of bats that had reclaimed the abandoned warehouse as they own. The flapping noise had Peter ducking, throwing his hands up to protect his head, but it was the _ungodly shrieking_ of the bats that really set his nerves on end.

And, also, apparently disrupted whatever else was going in the warehouse if the sound of running feet was anything to go by. Panicking, both from the swarm of bats and the footsteps that were growing louder, he threw himself behind a nearby pallet and pressed himself as flat as he could against it. 

“Oh, fuck, gross. I hate those things,” a rough voice hissed. From Peter’s vantage point he could only see a pair of shoes sticking out from the edge of a shipping container. They looked dressy, expensive. Definitely not Wade. 

Another pair of shoes appeared, but these feet didn’t stop. Unperturbed by the bats they walked closer and, yep, that was definitely Wade’s suit, and didn’t stop walking until they reached the spot where Peter had landed. 

And had, conveniently enough, left a trail of footprints. 

The next series of events played out in slow motion. Wade slowly turned his head, following the footsteps with his eyes, only to make direct eye contact with Peter who was still desperately pressed against a stack of pallets and trying to avoid both the mobsters and bats. Wade’s face went comically surprised beneath the mask, and Peter viciously shook his head at the merc so that he wouldn’t say anything. 

Of course, at that moment, a bat smacked squarely into his face and it was just pure animalistic instinct and reaction for him to screech aloud. His spidey-sense immediately fired off - which, conveniently, hadn’t informed him of the bat on a collision course with his face. 

Peter pressed himself low to the ground just in time to avoid the bullets directed at the pallets. Wood splintered and cracked, raining down on him, but at least it was just wood and not bullets. Wade, meanwhile, had pulled out his own gun and was returning fire while trying to get closer to Peter. There were shouts of _'it’s a setup’_ from where seven or eight other people must have been standing, and also shrieks as the bats terrorized the mobsters just as they’d terrorized Peter. 

There was a lull in the gunfire, the criminals opting to try to shoot the bats for a few seconds rather than Peter, and he anchored a web to a steel beam directly behind Wade. Taking advantage of the lack of bullets, and using every ounce of his enhanced speed and strength, he ran at Wade and rammed his shoulder into his chest. The merc let out a huff, the breath knocked out of him, but Peter had managed to hit him with enough force to send him over his shoulder. He grabbed onto Wade’s legs with one hand and then used the other to grip his web tightly and swing himself up into the air. 

He landed in a wobble on top of the steel beam, having to do a little dance to keep his balance and not send both himself and Wade falling over the side. His spidey-sense pinged again and he ran to the left, arms frantically sticking out at his sides as he tried to balance both himself and Wade. 

Wade, meanwhile, took this whole chain of events in stride and was shooting over Peter’s back from where he was sprawled across his shoulder. If the screams were anything to go by he was still hitting his shots, even upside down and precariously balanced atop someone’s shoulder on a slender piece of metal. It was kind of _really_ impressive. 

Peter also noted, in the back of his mind, that Wade wasn’t shooting to kill. Dead guys didn’t scream. 

With Wade supplying cover fire Peter managed to get them across the beam and to the windows. Using both web-shooters he attached webs to the window, grimace and braced himself, and then used both of his arms to launch himself and Wade through the windows like the world's most fucked up slingshot. 

Glass cascaded around them, but they made it out, and Peter quickly slung out another web to pull them back up into the air and further away. Wade, meanwhile, had somehow managed to crawl around Peter’s _moving body_ and was now hanging on to him piggyback style with his arms and legs wrapped around Peter. 

“Nice dramatic entrance there, Spidey, 10/10,” Wade commented, but Peter ignored him in favor of focusing on getting them the fuck out of there. After less than a minute he’d gotten them back to the high rises of New York City. Picking one at random he swung them up to the roof, landing on his feet, and shook his shoulders a little to tell Wade to get off. 

The merc had other plans, however, and hung on tightly to Peter squealing the whole time that he tried to shake him off. “Wade, come on, get off, I’m tired,” Peter whined, stopping his shaking and instead trying to pry Wade’s legs off from where they were tightly wrapped around his waist. 

“You are no fun,” Wade pouted back, but he obediently unwrapped himself from Peter and stood next to him on the roof instead. Peter turned to face him and was a little surprised to find Deadpool standing with his hands on his waist. “Now, Spidey, you gonna tell me what that shit was?” He asked, and even though he was being _“serious”_ , Peter could tell that he wasn’t really angry. 

“ _You_ wanna tell _me_ what that was?” Peter countered childishly. 

Wade gasped. “Don’t copy me!” 

Peter bit down on the urge to parrot him back again. 

“Alright, yeah, fine!” Peter sighed, rubbing a hand across his masked face. “I heard from a couple of crooks that you were meeting with their boss by the docks. I, uh, just wanted to check in,” he finished lamely. 

“Aw, Webs, you do care!” Wade made exaggerated kissy faces at Peter, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a hug. It was a little weird to be hugging him as Spider-Man, but it was very different from the hugs he shared with Wade as Peter. It was _definitely_ one of those bro hugs, with a lot of pounding on the back, and not the usual cuddly hugs he received as Peter. 

“But, it was like, totally chill. No big deal. I am totally a professional, you know? I wasn’t planning on working with them, I was just scoping them out before I merc’ed ‘um. Dudes are into some bad, like _really bad_ stuff and I was just making sure before I permanently dealt with them,” Wade explained, still hugging him and patting him on the back. To be honest, Peter had a feeling that Wade had been wanting to hug Spider-Man for a while and was milking it. Normally he wouldn’t complain, but he was actually feeling a little jealous. 

Of himself. 

“Okay, yeah, that makes sense,” Peter said, gently detangling himself from Wade and putting a little distance between them. “I, uh, don’t really _agree_ with it,” Peter stressed, “but, like, I _get_ it.” he shrugged. 

“See! He isn’t mad!” Wade said to himself, and from the way, his mask jut out Peter had a vague suspicion that he was sticking his tongue out at himself. 

“Yeah, I’m not mad, we’re good,” He confirmed. 

“Sweet! Wanna get some food?” Wade questioned, already onto the next topic. Peter laughed at his quick change of focus, but was happy that it didn’t seem like the merc was mad at him for messing up his operation. 

“Yeah, I could eat,” He supplied, walking over and standing on the edge of the roof. 

Before he could do anything Wade launched himself at him from behind, arms and legs wrapping around him again, and the force of his impact pushed them both off the roof. 

“Oh, fuck, I thought your freaky spider-powers would warn you!” Wade yelled, wind rushing past the two of them as their bodies plummeted. Peter wasn’t about to tell him, but Wade didn’t set off his spidey-sense with his antics. He was too comfortable, to _familiar_ , with him to ever interpret him as a threat. Using his web-shooters Peter easily turned their free fall into web-slinging, heading off in the direction of one of their usually Chinese place. 


End file.
